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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26672710">5 Times Peter Cracks a Joke in the Face of Death</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/polaroid15/pseuds/polaroid15'>polaroid15</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Concussions, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad, Kidnapped Peter Parker, Kidnapped Tony Stark, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Recovery, Tony Stark is a Good Dad, does it work?, peter parker tries to be funny</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:00:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26672710</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/polaroid15/pseuds/polaroid15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>...and one time Tony beats him to it. </p><p>Or, Peter’s been working on his jokes. Tony’s been working on keeping his kid alive to see his 18th birthday.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>May Parker (Spider-Man) &amp; Peter Parker, Ned Leeds &amp; Peter Parker, Peter Parker &amp; Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>114</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>425</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Catnapped</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I just want to say thank you so much for supporting me on my recent works! It has meant a lot! I'm really excited about this fic, and I should be able to upload chapters every day or two (fingers crossed haha). Hope you enjoy! :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> Peter Parker has had better Fridays. </p>
<p>   Mostly, they include times where he does <em>not </em>wake up delirious as hell in sketchy basements. Simpler times, really. He needs to stop taking those for granted. </p>
<p>   Coming back around is slow, and Peter doesn’t know whether it’s five minutes or five hours before his vision clears enough for him to see without blinking stars and feel certain his limbs are still indeed attached to his body. It’s the worst feeling, one he’s becoming far too familiar with. </p>
<p>  Once he can actually see, he recognizes he’s sitting in a basement. It’s undeveloped and it’s <em>freezing</em>. He’s sitting on concrete against the side wall under the staircase, arms secured in tight cuffs above his head and his knees and ankles looped together with thick rope. He shifts uncomfortably, wishing at least his arms weren’t suspended above him, and only allows a little anxiety to course through him when his restraints don’t budge. </p>
<p>   “Wonderful.” </p>
<p>   Accepting the fact he’s not leaving anytime soon, he shifts his bound legs to relieve the dull ache in his back, trying desperately to remember the latest Parker luck that had landed him here. The memory seems locked to him, but fragments of the experience begin to collect slowly like old photographs. </p>
<p>   He’d been in detention, staring humorlessly at Captain America’s recorded scoldings. It had been dark when he left. May was working, so he had started walking. There had been a sleek black car. He remembers being excited, thinking stupidly that it was Tony. But it wasn’t. By the time he had realized, it had been too late. He didn’t remember the faces. They had shot him with something and then brained him against the fire escape. </p>
<p>   He had been on his way to Ned’s to watch Star Wars. </p>
<p>   A part of him wishes he had stayed blissfully numb. </p>
<p>   “Okay, okay. Everything’s fine. You got this Spider-Man.” He closes his eyes, silently willing the drugs to leave his system faster so he can get the hell out. All the windows he can see are boarded up. He has no clue how long he’s been here already, but if the literal pain in his ass tells him anything, it’s been at least a few hours. </p>
<p>   There’s a clatter somewhere in the dark and Peter jerks to open his eyes, his reaction admittedly a little delayed. He tightens his hands into fists, ignoring the way the metal bites into his wrists, unable to see the source of the noise. </p>
<p>   “Hello?” His voice shakes. He can see his breath. </p>
<p>   Two sharp reflective eyes blink out at him from the far corner. <em>It’s just a cat,</em> Peter realizes with an exasperated laugh. The sudden spike of adrenaline has made him very tired, and he melts against the wall, allowing the sharp cuffs to support more of his weight. </p>
<p>   “Looks like I’ve been <em>catnapped</em>,” he murmurs. </p>
<p>   He really wishes Tony was here to tell him his joke is awful. But he’s not. </p>
<p>   With the cat still lurking from across the room, Peter slips into the grey area between consciousness and unconsciousness. His head bobs to his chest, then picks up, then falls for longer. <em>God</em>, his head hurts. </p>
<p>   Time must pass, because the next time his eyes blink open, there’s someone standing in front of him, pressing a metal rod into his ribs. The cat is nowhere to be seen. </p>
<p>   “Mornin’, sunshine. Sleep well?” </p>
<p>   The man is wearing a black ski mask. Peter tries to convince himself it doesn’t scare him, but he feels his muscles tighten all the same. “Oh, just swell. Five out of five stars.” </p>
<p>   Ignoring the sarcasm, the man continues on in a cheery voice. “Bet you’re wondering what you’re doing here.” </p>
<p>   Peter stares at him blankly, letting a long silence fill the room. Truthfully, he doesn’t care why he’s here. It’s all the same in the end. </p>
<p>   “Is it for my charming good looks and personality?” He musters a sarcastic half smile, feeling the dried blood from the gash in his head stretch at his skin. It starts to itch and he tries desperately to ignore it.</p>
<p>   “Not quite.” The man twirls the metal rod around his fingers. Peter can almost hear the smirk from behind his mask. “You’re Peter Parker.” </p>
<p>   “Obviously.” </p>
<p>   “Intern at Stark Industries.” </p>
<p>   Peter can’t stop his eyes from rolling. He’s so damn tired of this. “If you think that means anything, you’re wrong.” </p>
<p>   A sharp pain blossoms from his hip. His captor pulls the weapon back from the blow with white knuckles. “Don’t play dumb, Parker.” </p>
<p>   He has to physically bite his tongue to stop his retort. Tony has been trying to teach him how to withhold from talking smack to bad guys. He’s really, really trying. The man turns away, gathering something from a bookshelf to their right. When he returns, Peter realizes they’re polaroids. Of <em>him. </em></p>
<p>   Judging by the way his eyes glint with sadistic excitement, the man is pleased with Peter’s reaction. He squats down uncomfortably close, holding the images up one by one for Peter to see. The first one is him getting out of Happy’s car, arms heavy with textbooks and a smile on his face. In the next one, him and Tony are sitting side by side in an ice cream parlour, their backs to the camera. The third shows Tony sitting in a red Ferrari outside Peter’s highschool. Fourth, a blurry picture of Peter and Tony walking to the doors of Peter’s apartment building. Tony’s arm is strung across Peter’s shoulder, pulling him into a half hug as they walk. <em>For warmth, </em>Tony had told him. </p>
<p>   “These are only a sliver of them. We’ve been watching you for a very long time, Peter.” His eyes are dark and cold, glinting like black stones in the darkness. Peter’s heart beats ferociously against his ribs, which only worsens the pain in his head. </p>
<p>   “You sick f-” </p>
<p>   Before he can finish, the man backhands him sharply. He hears the crack before he feels it, and he sags against the wall, boneless. He hears the metal shift, knows it’s coming before it does. This time when he bites his tongue it bleeds. He doesn’t make a sound. </p>
<p>   Peter loses count of how many times he’s been hit. He’s losing pockets of time. His body is screaming, and eventually so is he. With the little strength he has left, he’s yanking savagely against the restraints around his wrists, not caring when the skin around them splits and bleeds. The blood runs down his arms, dripping onto his clothes and cement. </p>
<p>   “St-stop.” He can’t help it. </p>
<p>   The man laughs. It sends chills down his spine. <em>He’s enjoying this</em>. Before he can fully comprehend what’s about to happen, the man lifts the metal high and brings it down with great force on Peter’s bound ankle. He doesn’t have the breath to scream when he feels it shatter. </p>
<p>   His vision has gone white and there’s a faint ringing in his ears. He’s not sure if he’s hit again. The man must understand that he’s not going to get the reaction he wants anymore because his weapon drops to the ground, stained with red, and he leaves. </p>
<p>   Now that he’s alone, Peter cries. He hates the way it makes him feel. His whole body burns with agony. </p>
<p>   Wishing he would pass out already, Peter sags against his bonds as if hoping to speed up the process, shaking with silent sobs. The polaroids are scattered in front of him, just beyond his legs. They’re the last straw. Before he can stop it, Peter leans to the side as far as his bonds will let him and vomits. It makes his injured ribs scream, and suddenly Peter gets his wish as nothingness collects him with its ugly claws. </p>
<p>--- </p>
<p>   The next time he wakes, it’s like forcing his way through quicksand. Everything is heavy and blurred, and this time no matter how many times he blinks, it doesn’t go away. With consciousness comes pain, and Peter almost sinks back under. Something close to his side catches his fading attention. It’s the cat. </p>
<p>   “What’r oo lookn’ at?” </p>
<p>   The cat doesn’t blink. It licks its paw. </p>
<p>   Despite everything, Peter feels less alone, even if it’s just in the company of a  psychopath’s pet. Fading in and out, Peter watches as the cat approaches him further. Cautiously, the animal crawls onto his lap and lays there, purring and sending a rush of warmth through his whole body that makes him weak.</p>
<p>   “I’ll name you Happy Jr.” </p>
<p>   The cat purrs on, laying down it’s head.</p>
<p>   Peter follows suit, and sleeps once more. </p>
<p>--- </p>
<p>   The third time he resurfaces, Happy Jr. is gone. Peter tries not to dwell on it. His whole body is shaky and weak, like the time he had gotten the flu in middle school and passed out in the middle of gym class. He can’t feel his arms anymore. He knows that’s bad. </p>
<p>   He feels the wall vibrate behind him as the door at the top of the stairs opens. Heavy steps fall, and the masked man steps into his line of vision. “Sleep well?” </p>
<p>   “F’v stars, ‘member?” Peter mumbles again. His head feels three seconds away from imploding. </p>
<p>   Without responding, the man simply stares at Peter’s form huddled against the cement, and Peter is suddenly glad he can’t see his expression. His captor picks up the stained metal rod from yesterday, tapping it thoughtfully against his free hand. “I called Tony Stark.” </p>
<p>   With the little nerves he has left, Peter feels his stomach drop. </p>
<p>   “It seems like I was wrong.” </p>
<p>   The man steps closer and Peter shifts away instinctively, feeling small and gasping when his ankle is jostled. </p>
<p>   “Stark doesn’t care about you after all.” He kicks away the polaroids. </p>
<p>   Peter knows it isn’t true. He knows it with every fibre of his being, but still feels it when a lone, solitary tear leaks out his eye. </p>
<p>   “He doesn’t love you like I thought.” The man’s so close, Peter can smell his aftershave. “You’re worthless to me now.” </p>
<p>   Before Peter can even process the words, the cold metal of the rod is being pressed across his neck. He stares the man in the eyes as the air leaves him. Soon, his chest burns and his vision warps. An overwhelming sadness breaks through the numbness as he thinks about May and MJ and Ned. Of Tony. </p>
<p>   Suddenly, the pressure loosens and Peter gasps weakly. Through fluttering eyelids, he can see the man yell as he fights to remove something on his back. It’s the cat. Happy Jr. is clawing and scratching at the back of the man’s neck. <em>Defending me</em>, Peter thinks incredulously. </p>
<p>   With a final grunt, he grabs Happy Jr. by the scruff and hurls him across the room, where he cries out and lies still. Peter watches the scene dumbly, wondering if it’s the lack of oxygen or real. </p>
<p>   Seething, the metal rod is retrieved, but before he can use it, there’s a loud crash from upstairs that even Peter knows is legitimate. Looking deeply conflicted, the man curses and pulls a dark bandana out of his pocket and pulls it tightly through Peter’s teeth, gagging him. Then, he sprints upstairs to investigate. </p>
<p>   Feeling weaker than ever, Peter lets his head loll to the side, staring at Happy Jr. through increasingly dropping eyes. He hopes he’s okay. </p>
<p>   Like before, his eyes must close because he opens them to a figure tapping at his cheek. The touch is warm and familiar, and so is the voice. It takes more strength than he’s ever used in his life to pull apart his eyelids, and now Peter <em>knows</em> he’s lost too much oxygen. </p>
<p>   “Tn.” He’s still wearing the gag, and it muffles his delayed acknowledgement. He’s in too much pain to be relieved. </p>
<p>   Tony looks terrible. He’s pale and shaking and his mouth is moving but not making any sound. Behind him, Peter can see his suit. Was this real? </p>
<p>   Peter feels the gag fall, and so do his wrists. He must’ve been here longer than he thought, because his body topples with the shift of his weight. Tony catches him easily as Peter sags forward. He can feel the man’s heart beating wildly in his chest. He closes his eyes. </p>
<p>   “<em>-ete? </em>Peter can you hear me?” </p>
<p>   He hums detachedly. Tony pulls him out to arms length, and Peter feels his head roll as his neck fails to support it. </p>
<p>   “Christ kid. Jesus. I’m so sorry.” </p>
<p>   Peter pulls open his eyes and forces his head upwards. Tony hasn’t touched the ropes on his ankles yet. He doesn’t want him to. </p>
<p>   “‘M ok.” </p>
<p>   There’s something wet on Tony’s cheeks, too. “No, kid you’re not. But you will be. I promise.” </p>
<p>   “I feel like a Piñata.” </p>
<p>   Despite everything, Tony laughs. It’s wet. “What?” </p>
<p>   “Mm Peter Piñata. Maybe he thought I had candy in me.” Strangely, he laughs too, and it makes his ribs shoot with pain. There’s blood on his lips. He’s delirious. </p>
<p>   “Peter.” Mr. Stark’s hands are in his hair. </p>
<p>   “I’d say this kidnapping was a <em>smashing </em>success.” </p>
<p>   “Stop. Medical is 5 minutes out.” </p>
<p>   “A real <em>hit</em>.” </p>
<p>   “Oh God.” </p>
<p>   “Five stars.” </p>
<p>   “Peter!” </p>
<p>   “Sry.” He’s not, though. For the first time in a long time, he feels safe. “M’ke sure H’ppy Jr. is ‘kay.” </p>
<p>   “Who?” </p>
<p>   Peter is going numb.</p>
<p>   “The cat.” Somewhere, his fight with consciousness slips. The last thing he feels is Tony’s grip tightening around him, pressing a kiss onto the top of his head. </p>
<p>--- </p>
<p>  Peter wakes up an indefinite amount of time later. He’s in medbay, which he expects. Soft, golden light filters in through the window. Tony is slouched in a chair in the corner of the room, and it makes Peter smile. There’s a warm weight in his lap, and Peter ignores the ache in his neck as he glances down to investigate. </p>
<p>   It’s Happy Jr., curled up into a tight ball. Peter’s smile widens, and strangely, tears prick at his eyes. His arm is impossibly heavy, but he manages to reach up to stroke the soft fur. He pets the cat once, twice, then promptly falls asleep. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Touchdown</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Following his rescue, Peter can't seem to catch a break. Luckily, he's got people in his corner.<br/>*Should be read in order!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys! I chose to write this instead of catching up on all my asynchronous biology lectures that I've been procrastinating. Worth it haha. I hope you enjoy! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It takes Peter’s ankle just under a week to heal. </p>
<p>   The rest of his wounds, though many, heal almost overnight. Some of the deeper bruises where his captor had hit him with that goddamn metal rod still show like shadows on Peter’s skin, matching the ones under his eyes. The kid hasn’t been sleeping well. </p>
<p>   Tony knows this because Peter’s been staying at the tower ever since they’d found him, making it easier for the Doctors to check on the progress of his healing bones. The break had been messy. Peter doesn’t like to talk about it. </p>
<p>   Not accustomed to the separation, May has joined them for dinner every night since Peter’s rescue, sometimes even staying for a movie. Movie night has become somewhat of a nightly ritual, especially since Peter hasn’t been able to do much. Tonight, May doesn’t stay after dinner. She works early. As soon as she leaves, Peter hobbles over to the couch, smiling expectedly at Tony to join him. </p>
<p>   Even though movies aren’t necessarily Tony’s thing, these moments are slowly becoming some of his favorites. Peter’s passionate about what they watch, and his commentary is much more entertaining than what’s actually on the screen. </p>
<p>   Tonight, they’re halfway through <em>The Force Awakens</em> and Tony makes a comment about how they should try to make an <em>actual </em>lightsaber, and is surprised when Peter doesn’t immediately geek out in agreement. Confused, Tony turns to look over and is genuinely shocked to find Peter dead asleep. There have been a lot of mutual sleepless nights lately, and Tony silently thanks the gods above the kid’s finally getting some rest. </p>
<p>   Frankly, it’s quite the sight. The kid’s head is slumped back against the cushions and his leg propped up securely on a handful of pillows in a bright red cast. One of his hands is resting in the popcorn bowl at his side, and the other on Happy Jr.’s back. The  shaggy cat is pressed between Peter and the couch, and Tony can hear him purring quietly, balancing out the kid’s steady breathing. Peter and this damn cat have been inseparable the whole week. </p>
<p>   But of course he’s not jealous. </p>
<p>   He’s just glad to have his kid back, even if he has to share. </p>
<p>   Turning back to the TV, he has a sudden warmth in his chest and a smile on his face. He’ll have to tell Peter about his lightsaber idea later, he decides, and as the scenes blur in front of him he thinks about how he can make it work. More often than not, he finds his attention stolen by the boy beside him. </p>
<p>   Nearing the end of the film, there’s a loud bang that echoes through the speakers in the climax of the fight scene. As if shocked, Peter jolts awake in an instant. The pillows holding up his leg tumble to the ground and Happy Jr., meowing as if offended, jumps from his stomach. </p>
<p>   At first, Tony thinks it’s funny. He even laughs at the kid’s dramatic reaction, but it shrivels in his throat. </p>
<p>   “Kiddo?” </p>
<p>   Peter looks nearly as disoriented as the night Tony had found him. His eyes are big and unfocused as they reflect the light from the fight scene as it plays out on the screen across the room. Breathing labored, Peter grasps weakly at the air, then at his chest, then promptly topples sideways off the couch all together. </p>
<p>   Cursing, Tony lunges to grab him, spilling his own bowl of popcorn in the process, but it’s too late. The coffee table Tony has been using to prop his legs up on becomes the landing pad for the kid’s descent, and he winces as he hears the audible thunk of Peter’s head hitting the dark metal.</p>
<p>   Peter doesn’t stay down for long. Groggily, he uses the table to hoist himself up and collapses against the edge of the couch. Wasting no time, Tony kneels down beside him, turning his kid’s face to look at him. “Pete, you’re okay. You’re at the Tower.” </p>
<p>   Weak and confused, Peter’s eyebrows draw together as he tries to connect with his mentor. There’s an angry red bump on his forehead where it had hit the furniture, and his labored breaths seem to be barely scraping through his chest. Tony feels tears biting at his eyes. He knows the feeling all too well. </p>
<p>   “You’re at the Tower,” Tony repeats, running a hand through Peter’s hair. “Just breathe for me kiddo. I know you know how.” </p>
<p>   After more encouragement, Peter seems to come to himself a little more. He forces in one breath, then two, and falls forward into Tony’s arms, shaking like a leaf. Happy Jr. appears from the shadows, and sits patiently by Peter’s hand, licking it as if to let the boy know he’s there. Tony whispers comforting things into Peter’s hair, continues reminding the kid how to breathe, and feels tears streak down his face when finally, he does. </p>
<p>   Somehow, Tony feels like this is all his fault. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>---</p>
<p>   Two days later, Peter goes back to school. </p>
<p>   The red cast is long forgotten, and Peter is walking with a literal spring to his step. There’s still a slight bump on his head where he had fallen, but most of the bruises are gone. They haven’t talked about the other night. A part of Tony genuinely believes that if they don’t, it’s like it never happened. Peter must agree, because he doesn’t bring it up either.</p>
<p>   Peter leaves. Tony sits in his lab and sulks. He doesn’t get any work done that day. </p>
<p>--- </p>
<p>   Naturally, Peter is late for his first day back. </p>
<p>   While taking the subway, he receives a notification on his phone about a break-in a couple blocks east of the train’s next stop. Peter doesn’t hesitate for a second. At the stop, he runs out, changes hastily behind a dumpster, and swings happily to the scene. For the entirety of his recovery, his whole body had been itching to get back out. He had felt useless. </p>
<p>   Now, he can alter that feeling. Or maybe he’s just looking for something to distract himself. Either way, it doesn’t really matter.</p>
<p>   The team of perps at the site of the robbery are easy to take down. Amatuers, really. Peter does it in under five minutes. They had been robbing a homeware store of all places, and during the last few seconds of the fight, Peter takes a savage hit across his temple with a cast iron skillet. For a moment, it makes his vision white out and his heart skip. Briefly, he’s back in the basement, and his breath hitches like it had with Mr. Stark. </p>
<p>   This time, he recovers quickly. He webs up the last of the opposition and disappears before the police show. </p>
<p>   He swings to school dizzy and missing most of his targets. Getting hit in the head twice in the span of a couple days was not doing good things for him. Changing out of his suit is more than disorienting, and when the bell rings, it seems to light his brain on fire. He makes it to Chemistry just after the morning announcements, and practically falls into his desk. Beside him, Ned’s smile at seeing him falters a little bit as he mouths, “<em>Is that blood?</em>” </p>
<p>   Stomach dropping, Peter spends the first fifteen minutes of the lecture scrubbing at the side of his head with the sleeve of his hoodie. Eventually, with Ned’s approval, the worst of it’s gone. </p>
<p>   Undistracted once more, Peter begins to feel the pain in his skull. It makes it extremely difficult to keep up with his teacher, and eventually he just gives up. </p>
<p>   Suddenly, everyone in the room stands. Peter looks around in confusion, and Ned looks at him with dark worry in his eyes. “The bell, Peter. Class is over.” </p>
<p>   Feeling heat collect on his cheeks, Peter scoops up his empty notes and walks side by side with Ned out of the classroom, focusing all his attention on walking straight. Ned is quiet, and so is Peter. He’s a good friend. </p>
<p>   At their lockers, Ned gives him a hug, which Peter accepts with surprise. “I missed you man. Are you okay?” </p>
<p>   Peter allows himself to smile, and a flash of white hot pain races through his skull. “I’m okay. I might have a concussion. It’ll go away soon.” </p>
<p>   Looking unconvinced, Ned grabs his books for english. “Whatever you say.” </p>
<p>--- </p>
<p>   English is not better. In fact, it’s much worse. By the end of the lecture Peter has his head in his hands, trying to block his ears inconspicuously to reduce the noise that makes his head throb. He feels like crap, but hey, what else is new?</p>
<p>   Maybe going on patrol wasn’t such a great idea after all. </p>
<p>   He debates this all the way to gym class, where Ned stays loyally by his side and corrects him everytime he strays too far to the side. All day, Ned has been suggesting he goes home, but Peter is more stubborn. He’s already missed a week of classes. </p>
<p>   Gym is torture. Even Flash gives up on teasing him given Peter’s lacking reactions. Everything around him feels like it’s suspended in deep water. </p>
<p>   They’re playing flag football. The sun is glaring down on them, and Peter begins to feel quite nauseous. More than usual, he’s not being a particularly useful asset to the team. He wanders out into the open. No one’s even defending him. Someone yells “Parker!” It sounds like a warning, but Peter doesn’t understand why. </p>
<p>   He looks up just in time to see the football racing towards his face. He doesn’t feel the impact. </p>
<p>--- </p>
<p>   Ned sees Peter go down like a puppet with its strings cut. He runs over to his friend, barely beating the coach there, and falls to his knees beside Peter’s body. Already, he’s stirring, eyes slitted against the harsh glare of the midday sun and groaning. </p>
<p>   Coach helps Peter sit, steadies him when he sways violently, and pulls Peter’s eyelids up to check his pupils. Unsatisfied, he gestures for Ned to help Peter to his feet. “Leeds, take Parker to the nurse.” </p>
<p>   Obeying without hesitation, Ned heaves Peter up with great difficulty and helps him stumble across the field, the class murmuring and laughing as they make their exit. Ned passes MJ last. Her eyes are dark with unmistakable worry, but she doesn’t follow them. </p>
<p>   The whole way, Peter is mumbling nonsense and gripping at his head. As soon as they round the corner of the building and are out of sight of the field, Peter gives up walking and falls forward onto the grass. Ned isn’t strong enough to combat the movement, and pitches forward with him. </p>
<p>   For a moment, Peter lies in the grass quietly. Ned’s heart is beating very quickly in his chest. He pulls out his phone, ready to call Happy. “Peter?” </p>
<p>   Slowly, Peter rolls onto his back, smiling deliriously. “S’rry Ned. ‘M okay.” </p>
<p>   “You’re very obviously not.” </p>
<p>   “Don’ tell T’ny.” </p>
<p>   “Peter-” </p>
<p>   “Please! M’ okay. Help me up. I’ll go home.” </p>
<p>   Ned swallows, feeling suddenly very over his head. He doesn’t know what to do. Buying himself some time, Ned links arms with Peter and pulls him vertical. For a long time, Peter sits and blinks as he reorienates himself. Another big smile pulls at his lips. </p>
<p>   “Well, that was a <em>ball.</em>” </p>
<p>   Ned doesn’t laugh. Peter does. </p>
<p>   “I mean, I practically reinvented the term <em>touchdown</em>.” When Ned doesn’t acknowledge him again, Peter stutters to explain. “You know, cause I face planted.” </p>
<p>   Ned puts his head in his hands. </p>
<p>   “Geez, tough crowd,” Peter mumbles. </p>
<p>   “Peter, I’m going to strangle you.” </p>
<p>   “Okay.” </p>
<p>   Now Ned does smile. He feels weak. When Peter isn’t looking, he texts Happy an SOS. Seconds later, his phone screen lights up, but the call isn’t from Happy. It’s from Tony Stark. </p>
<p>   Ned swears, his insides going numb as he nearly drops the phone. Half-lidded, Peter looks over at his friend with a mixture of humour and confusion. “Whas wrong?” </p>
<p>   “Don’t be mad.” Ned tries to keep his voice steady, then accepts the call. “Hello?” </p>
<p>   “Ned? I got an interesting message from Happy. Where’s Pete?” </p>
<p>   “He’s right here. He’s pretty messed up.” </p>
<p>   Peter’s confusion deepens. Then, it seems to click. The betrayal is evident. “Ned! What the heck, man?” </p>
<p>   “Uh, he hit his head a couple times.” </p>
<p>   He hears a deep sigh stretch through the line. “What happened?” </p>
<p>   “Well, I’m not sure about the first time. He showed up late to chemistry with blood on his face though. He was pretty disoriented, but he wouldn’t go home.” Ned pauses, choosing his next words carefully. “Then he was hit in the face with a football.” </p>
<p>   Silence. “You’re kidding.” </p>
<p>   “No Mr. Iron Man sir.” </p>
<p>   “Can I talk to him?”  </p>
<p>   Ned raises his eyebrows. Even concussed as hell, Peter must be able to hear their conversation because he shakes his head violently, eyes wide. </p>
<p>   “Yeah, of course.” </p>
<p>   Peter pouts, taking the phone in defeat while glaring at Ned. “Hi.” </p>
<p>   “Kid?” Ned can barely make out his words. </p>
<p>   “Thas’ me.” </p>
<p>   “Ned told me you took some hits.” </p>
<p>   Despite himself, Peter smiles. “A few. Third time’s the charm, I guess.” </p>
<p>   Another deep sigh. “I’m coming to get you.” </p>
<p>   Unsurprisingly, Peter protests. “No! You don’ have too-” </p>
<p>   “I want to.” Tony’s voice is gentle. “Sit tight and stay with Ned.” </p>
<p>   “Fine.” Peter hangs up, stares at the disconnected phone for a long time, and hands the device back to Ned. They both sit quietly, until Peter scoots up against the wall of the school and closes his eyes. Ned thinks for a moment that Peter is asleep. Then, eyes still closed, he whispers, “thanks Ned. You’re a good friend.” </p>
<p>   Ned blushes. He can’t help it. He feels stressed way beyond his age, and can’t imagine how Peter must feel. “Thanks Peter. You’re a good friend too.”  </p>
<p>   They relapse into a fractured silence, and Ned wonders distantly just how long it’ll be before Peter’s jokes don’t fix things anymore. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ned it too good for this world and must be protected at all costs!<br/>I hope you enjoyed this one! Stay tuned for chapter three :) Let me know what you think, I'd love to hear any feedback! Have a great day :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Collapse</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Peter will do just about anything to keep Tony safe, even if that means reliving one of the worst experiences of his life. This time, however, he's not alone.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey everyone!!! I really enjoyed writing this chapter :) I hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>   Peter gets the call at 11:30 on a Friday night. </p>
<p>   He’s sitting at the kitchen table, staring detachedly out of the small window over May’s left shoulder. The city seems darker and colder than usual, and even though he’s warm in their apartment, he shivers. For once, even though he would never verbalize it, he finds himself grateful he’s not on patrol. </p>
<p>   Following his triple concussion misfortune a couple of days prior, May and Tony had mutually agreed on grounding him from all patrols for a week. Looking back now, the punishment was admittedly pretty justified. Regardless, he had objected and complained and even tried bribing Happy into helping him reduce his sentence. Naturally, none of it had worked.</p>
<p>   Truthfully though, in retrospect, he’s grateful for the forced break. He’s been so tired...   </p>
<p>   “Hey! Earth to Peter. It’s your turn.”    </p>
<p>   Peter blinks back into reality, not quite realizing he had left it, and finds himself back in the kitchen. Old takeout boxes from dinner fill the space between Peter and May where they sit across from each other. A quiet pop song from the 80s plays in the background from Ben’s old radio, and it adds to the room’s warmth. They’re playing Uno. May has already beaten him three times in a row. </p>
<p>   “Sorry.” Peter squints at his hand, selects a red eight, and places it on the pile. He wonders how long she’s been waiting. </p>
<p>   Dropping a red three on top of his card, May chews on her bottom lip like she always does when she’s debating on saying something. She has two cards left, clutched tightly in her hand. </p>
<p>   Peter still has seven cards. He discards a green three. </p>
<p>   “Uno.” She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. </p>
<p>   Before Peter can retaliate, his phone buzzes next to him on the table. He assumes it’s Ned, who's been calling him a lot more since the whole football to the face thing, but it’s not. It’s Happy. </p>
<p>   May’s eyes light up with particular interest as she too sees the ID. Without hesitating, Peter answers. It’s much later than Happy usually calls, and already anxiety is thrumming in his veins. <em>Something is wrong. </em></p>
<p>   “Happy?” </p>
<p>   “Hey, Kid.” Happy’s voice is hard, and just like that Peter’s suspicions are confirmed. “I know you’re grounded, but Tony needs your help.” </p>
<p>   It’s like a bucket of ice water tips over his head. He stands up quickly, hitting the table and spilling water out of May’s cup. From behind her glasses, her eyes are large and questioning. </p>
<p>   “Is- is he okay?” </p>
<p>   There’s too long of a silence on the other end of the phone, and Peter grips the edge of his chair instinctively to steady his suddenly weak knees. The wood groans. He tries not to let his mounting panic bleed into his voice. “Happy!” </p>
<p>   There’s a sharp intake of breath through the sudden static in Peter’s ears. “Sorry Pete. Yeah, yeah he’s fine. But he’s gone. We think someone associated with the man who kidnapped you last week took him.” </p>
<p>   Peter closes his eyes, suddenly nauseous. <em>No no no</em>. </p>
<p>   Leaving May and their game behind, Peter runs into his room on autopilot. He puts his phone on speaker and immediately starts changing into his suit. <em>Spider-Man doesn’t get scared.</em> </p>
<p>   “We have his location,” Happy continues, but sounds unsure of himself. “In fact, they sent it to us. Looks like he’s on the roof of an old warehouse. You’re closest, and it’ll take you half the time to reach him. I hate to ask you Pete, but time’s really of the essence here.” </p>
<p>   May had followed him. She’s leaning against the doorframe with her arms wrapped tightly around her thin frame as if trying to physically hold herself together. She’s biting on her lip again. </p>
<p>   “Of course, Happy. I’ll leave now. Send me the coordinates.” </p>
<p>   “Thanks kid. Be safe.” </p>
<p>   He hangs up before Peter can, and seconds later, the directions to the warehouse appear. May stops him before he can jump out the window by grabbing his arm firmly. He wishes she wouldn’t. </p>
<p>   “Pete-” </p>
<p>   “I’m sorry, May. I gotta save him.” His voice shakes. </p>
<p>   “I know. God, I know.” May wraps him unexpectedly in a fierce hug. “I love you, Peter.” </p>
<p>   Throat tight again, Peter finds himself glad she can’t see his face. “Love you too, May.” </p>
<p>   Then as if never there at all, Peter disappears into the night. He doesn’t see May watching him as he goes, standing in his empty bedroom, tears on her cheeks, and nothing but the sound of Ben’s old radio to keep her company. </p>
<p>---</p>
<p>   Peter swings faster than he ever has in his life, feeling strangely detached from his body. Usually the thrill of being out as Spider-Man has him smiling like an idiot and yelling happily into the sky as the infinite lights of New York blur and melt together far below.</p>
<p>   Tonight, though, he’s quiet. His thoughts make it hard to breathe. </p>
<p>   According to the coordinates, he’s getting close. He zips past a fire escape, lands on the edge of a billboard, and launches past an arrangement of dark office buildings. Through the corner of his eye, he can see his reflection gliding through the air beside him, blurred and distorted. </p>
<p>   Finally, he finds a vantage point overlooking the warehouse and his GPS blinks off. Winded from his journey, he spends a couple seconds gulping in air and scanning the building. The warehouse looks like it’s been vacant for years. </p>
<p>   “Karen, scan for heat signatures.” </p>
<p>   There’s a moment of silence before Karen brings up a visual, and her familiar voice fills his ears. “One heat signature detected on the northeast section of the roof.” </p>
<p>   As soon as Karen finishes her report, Peter is swinging down to the building. His heart is beating painfully in his ears. <em>Tony Tony Tony. </em></p>
<p>   He doesn’t quite stick the landing, and rolls to correct himself. Then, he’s running. He can see a shape through the darkness. </p>
<p>   “Mr. Stark!” Peter skids to stop in front of his mentor, the sight of him not really doing wonders for his anxiety. Tony is sitting in a wooden chair, and his wrists and ankles are bolted with thick metal cuffs. His eyes are closed, and there’s old blood on his face. </p>
<p>   “Hey.” Ignoring his increasingly weak knees, Peter places his gloved fingers on Tony’s cheeks like he had done for him those few weeks ago, and starts tapping. “Mr. Stark. Tony. Come on.” </p>
<p>   Slowly, Tony’s eyes open. They stare sightlessly, fall closed, then open once more. This time, there’s a shred of recognition, a soft smile, and then immediate concern. </p>
<p>   “Peter!” Tony jerks in his restraints weakly and winces as the movement upsets his equilibrium. Just like Peter, he’s struggling for air. “What the- what are you doing here?”</p>
<p>   “You’re- you’re okay Mr. Stark.” Peter tries to reassure. His hands are shaking from the relief of Tony’s sudden consciousness. “Happy called me.”</p>
<p>   “No, Pete, you don’t understand-” </p>
<p>   Peter’s senses are thrumming wildly, but he pushes them away. Tony is here. He’s alive. He’s safe. </p>
<p>   “It’s okay Mr. Stark! I can get you out of here.” Peter crouches and begins pulling at the cuff restraining Tony’s left ankle. It’s tougher than he anticipates, and frowns when it doesn’t immediately break. From his new angle, he can see the chair is bolted to the ground. He also sees an electric timer, directly underneath the chair, it’s numbers rapidly counting down. <em>1:12.</em> <em>1:11. 1:10. </em></p>
<p>   “No.” </p>
<p>   “Peter. Peter look at me.” </p>
<p>   Without meaning to, Peter feels his head tilt upwards to connect to Tony’s eyes. He doesn’t know what to say. Even if he did, he’s not sure he could manage. Breathing is impossible now. </p>
<p>   “Pete, listen closely. You have to leave. This was all a trap for you. This is what they want-” </p>
<p>   “No!” Peter breaks off their eye contact and starts yanking at the restraint with renewed vigor. </p>
<p>   “Kid, please-” Tony’s words are wet. Peter doesn’t look at him.</p>
<p>   “Where’s the bomb?” </p>
<p>   “I don’t know, probably somewhere below us. It’ll collapse the whole building.” </p>
<p>   Before the realization can sink in, the cuff snaps under Peter’s grip. Immediately, he shifts to the other. By the way his own fingers sting, he’s sure it’s not the most comfortable experience for Tony, but it’s better than being blown up. </p>
<p>   <em>52. 51. 50. 49. </em></p>
<p>   “Peter goddamit. I won’t let you die for me!” </p>
<p>   “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same thing for me.” If they survive this, Peter knows he’s going to get the lecture of his life. But it doesn’t matter. Somewhere along the way, his mounting panic has morphed into a dull nothingness. His fingers start to bleed when the second cuff breaks, but he doesn’t feel it at all. He doesn’t feel the small victory, either. </p>
<p>   <em>36. 35. 34.  </em></p>
<p>   Peter moves up to Tony’s wrists, choosing the right one pulling with all his strength. The blood on his hands leaves red marks on Tony’s skin. </p>
<p>   “There isn’t enough time. If you leave now, you’ll be far enough from the blast to be safe.” Tony’s voice is raw and more desperate than Peter’s ever heard it before. He doesn’t stop. </p>
<p>   “For once, you’re the one with the concussion Mr. Stark. You’re not really in the position to be making calls.” </p>
<p>   Tony lets out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. The first cuff snaps, and Peter lunges for the last one. He feels like an animal. The world around him is blurred around the edges. </p>
<p>   <em>19. 18. 17. 16. 15. </em> </p>
<p>   There’s still so much Peter wants to say to his mentor that he’s never had the courage too. There’s still so many- </p>
<p>   “Peter.” </p>
<p>   <em>13. 12. 11. </em> </p>
<p>   “Peter, I love you.” </p>
<p>   <em>10. 9. 8. </em> </p>
<p>   The final cuff breaks, and Peter sobs. The words he wants desperately to say are on his tongue, but he keeps them in. Instead, he grabs Tony’s arm, throws him over his shoulder, and starts sprinting for the edge of the roof. As he does, he can hear the finality of three, loud beeps. </p>
<p>
  <em>3. 2. 1. </em>
</p>
<p>   For a moment, nothing happens, like it had all just been another one of his bad dreams. They’re almost to the edge. Peter even has his arm up and extended, ready to fire off the web that will take them home, but never gets the chance. </p>
<p>   It’s hard to tell exactly what happens next. </p>
<p>   There’s a deafeningly loud noise that shakes the loose rocks at their feet. There’s heat, smoke, and the roof shifts like a crumbling card tower. The force pulls Tony away from him, and Peter stops to catch him. Pieces of the floor crack and disappear around them. Before Peter can pull Tony back up, the section of the floor they’re standing on trembles violently. Tony screams something Peter can’t understand, and then they’re both falling.  </p>
<p>   It’s horribly disorienting, and Peter uses his free hand to shoot up a web blindly. Miraculously, it sticks, and with a horrible lurch, their descent is halted in an instant. Despite himself, Peter screams. The harsh stop combined with Tony’s weight pulling him down pops his shoulder out of its socket. Momentarily, he’s blind, and expends all his energy on relearning how to breathe. His fingers have gone numb, but they hold tight to the web. </p>
<p>   The pain doesn’t leave, but his awareness comes back slowly like sand falling into an hourglass. Tony’s dead weight on his shoulder burns, but he’ll never let go. Blearily, he follows his web up to see where it’s attached, and his stomach drops once more. </p>
<p>   He knows what’s going to happen, but he’s powerless to stop it. Instead, he looks down into the dark expanse below them, filled with dust and rubble and ruin. He sees Mr. Stark, who is looking up at him with an unreadable expression. Thin tracks of pale skin cut through the dust on his cheeks. They communicate silently. Again, Peter finds so many things he wants to say, but can’t. </p>
<p>   Then, the part of the building they dangle from collapses with the rest of the structure, and they resume their descent. This time, Peter isn’t scared. As they fall, he thinks of May and their unfinished game of UNO. He thinks of Ben’s radio. </p>
<p>
  <em>   He thinks of how this must have been what his parents had felt like when they were falling, too. </em>
</p>
<p>   Using the last of his strength, Peter uses a web to pull Tony closer to his body. He puts one arm behind Tony’s neck, and uses the other to shoot a web at a crumbling support beam to their right. It pulls them off course from the majority of the debris, but it would be a fantasy for them to escape it all. </p>
<p>   They hit the rubble hard. He hears Tony gasp close to his ear, and the arm Peter had thrown behind Tony’s head explodes in a sharp, bright pain as the bone breaks. Peter tries for a moment to catch the falling pieces before they reach them, but they both have learned once before that he’s too weak to combat collapsing buildings. A particularly large chunk of cement comes at them, and Peter doesn’t have the energy to react. </p>
<p>   When the dust clears, everything is silent. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>--- </p>
<p>   Peter is holding a baseball in a large, green field. The sun is bright. There’s a smile on his face. Across from him stands Ben, his left hand hidden in a baseball glove, and Peter’s smile widens. </p>
<p>   “Come on Pete, throw it!” </p>
<p>   He does, and Ben catches it with ease. “Nice one!” He takes the ball in his other hand and throws it back. Peter misses, and Ben laughs good naturedly. Somewhere in the distance, a familiar song plays from an old radio. Peter turns to pick up the ball and bounces back up, arm already cocked back to reciprocate the toss. Slowly, though, it falls to his side. Ben is gone. </p>
<p>   “Ben?” Peter feels his eyebrows draw together in confusion. He had been right there… </p>
<p>   “Kid!” </p>
<p>   Spinning around, Peter sees Tony on the other end of the field. He too is wearing a glove. He raises it expectedly. “Are you going to throw it or what?” </p>
<p>   <em>“Peter. C’mon kid.”</em> </p>
<p>   Shock wearing off, Peter nods shortly and sends the ball in his direction. Like Ben, Tony catches it easily, and spins for dramatic effect. </p>
<p>   <em>“Peter! Nap time is over now.” </em></p>
<p>   “Good one, Dad!” The words are foreign in his mouth, but they make him smile. Tony smiles too, but it quickly falls. The ground around him is shaking, and in the blink of an eye, opens beneath his feet. The baseball falls to the earth, rolls, and stands still. </p>
<p>   “Tony!” The words start in the field, and end in darkness. The bright green environment is gone, and he’s suddenly surrounded by giant chunks of cement and smoke. He’s lying on his back and there’s dust in his mouth, choking him. He is reminded horribly of disappearing in a cloud of dust, and it brings bile up his throat. </p>
<p>   “Oh thank God. Thank you Jesus.” </p>
<p>   “T’ny?” </p>
<p>   Peter tries to sit up and stops immediately at Tony’s scream. “Wait, don’t move Pete!” The man is off to his left, only his upper half visible through the ruin. There’s blood and dust and bits of cement on all the skin Peter can see, but otherwise looks fine, all things considered.  </p>
<p>   “Are you okay?” Peter coughs again, and it shoots pain through every bone in his body. He tries very hard not to think about the vulture. </p>
<p>   “I’m okay kiddo. You saved us. You did good.” </p>
<p>   “Thanks.” Peter feels a sudden wetness in his leg, and looks down to see a piece of rebar sticking vertically out of his thigh. It’s pinning him to the ground like a taxidermic butterfly. Strangely, he can’t feel it. Tony notices his realization, but doesn’t say anything as he waits patiently for Peter’s reaction. </p>
<p>   Weakly, Peter smiles. He does <em>not </em>have the willpower to deal with this yet. Thank God for shock. “So, do you come here often?” </p>
<p>   “You are <em>literally </em>going to be the death of me.” </p>
<p>   “I think I just upgraded from Peter Pinita to Spider Shishkabob.” </p>
<p>   “Peter. Stop. We seriously need to talk about your coping mechanisms-” </p>
<p>   “C’mon Mr. Stark. It’s got a good ring to it. Maybe I should add it to my resume.” </p>
<p>   Tony sighs deeply, and Peter hears him cough violently. Reality crashes down around him, and he has to dig his fingernails into a large piece of stone beside him to ground himself. <em>Vulture Vulture Vulture. </em> </p>
<p>   As if reading his mind, Tony winces and stretches his arm towards him as far as it can go. Using his good arm, Peter reciprocates. Their fingers barely meet in the middle, but the contact helps. </p>
<p>   “We’re going to be fine.” </p>
<p>   “I know.” </p>
<p>   “Happy’s going to come any second now.” </p>
<p>   “I know.” </p>
<p>   “We’re going to have the best movie night ever.” </p>
<p>   Peter nods. Words aren’t enough. He thinks back to the field, where he had called Tony ‘dad’, then thinks to the roof, when he was certain he would never be able to talk to Tony again. </p>
<p>   “Tony?” </p>
<p>   “Yeah, squirt?” </p>
<p>   “I- nevermind.” The shock is starting to wear off and the pain from his dislocated shoulder, broken arm, and impaled leg start to burn. He blinks hard, and focuses on his contact with Tony’s hand. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” </p>
<p>   Tony squeezes Peter’s fingers with his own. “The feeling’s mutual.” </p>
<p>   “Okay.” </p>
<p>   “Okay.” </p>
<p>   Time passes in a red haze. Tony talks to him the whole time they await their rescue, but none of his words make it through the mist in his head. Happy comes with the cavalry after a long fifteen minutes, and it takes him an additional thirty to dig them out. Removing the rebar <em>sucks</em>, but Peter refuses to pass out. He almost does when they reset his shoulder and the bones in his forearm, but hangs onto reality all the same. He needs to make sure Tony makes it out. Then he can sleep. Maybe he’ll see Ben again.</p>
<p>   Tony does make it out. They both do. When they’re free, Peter doesn’t let go of Tony’s hand, even when the paramedics rush to staunch the blood coming out of his leg. He doesn’t even let go when they stick a needle in his shoulder, and he doesn’t let go when his eyes close. </p>
<p>   Tony doesn’t let go either. </p>
<p>--- </p>
<p>   In the aftermath of it all, Happy stands quietly in medbay, May by his side. She’s hanging onto his arm like a lifeline, and her head rests gently on his shoulder. </p>
<p>   In front of them, Peter and Tony lay side by side on separate beds that have been pushed together, both dead to the world. In the center, their hands lay inches apart. Both are covered in thick bandages, and all the dust and blood has been scrubbed away to reveal red cuts and blue bruises. </p>
<p>   Despite it all, they look peaceful. </p>
<p>   “Peter was really brave today. He’s a good kid.” Happy whispers. </p>
<p>   “Too good, sometimes.” May agrees in an equally hushed tone. “He’s not been doing very good lately. I don’t know how to help him.” </p>
<p>   Happy allows the silence to answer for him. Many minutes pass. </p>
<p>   “Tony loves him like a son.” Happy says, choosing his words carefully. </p>
<p>   “I know.” </p>
<p>   “And Peter-” </p>
<p>   “I know.” </p>
<p>   Despite himself, Happy smiles. He removes his arm to wrap it around her, and she uses her other arm to complete the hug. She smells like autumn. </p>
<p>   “He’s a good kid,” Happy says again as he feels hot tears on his shoulder. He’s said it countless times throughout the years, and means it more and more every time. </p>
<p>   He’s never been more proud of anyone in his life. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Poor, poor Peter. When will he catch a break??<br/>Thanks for reading! Again, the next chapter should be posted shortly :) I've really enjoyed talking to you in the comments- thanks for all the feedback! Let me know what you think!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Break</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>When a silent alarm trips at Midtown School of Science and Technology, Spider-Man is the first on the scene. Everything would've been fine, too, if it weren't for his babysitter...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>HELLO and happy Saturday!! :) Again, I adored writing this chapter and I hope you all like it :) Thank you all SO MUCH for all the love and support, it really does mean the world to me &lt;3 Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>   Peter and Tony don’t talk much about what happened at the warehouse. </p>
<p>   Tony wakes first, and for a fraction of a moment, he’s oblivious. He blinks three times at the colorless ceiling before his senses kick back in, knowing better than anyone that bliss rarely lasts. When his memories return, they crash like the rubble they had been buried in, and he has his first panic attack in a long time. Happy helps. He always does. </p>
<p>   Three hours pass before Peter joins him in the waking world. It’s slow, and Tony hates seeing his kid in pain as he fights to open his eyes. They share a moment of relief, laugh, and fall into silence. Peter’s eyes are dark, and he bites at his lip like his Aunt does whenever she has something to say but won’t. Tony doesn’t press. Maybe he should. </p>
<p>   Happy Jr. pops in and lets Tony scratch him behind the ear as Peter pulls himself vertical with enormous effort. He shifts slowly to let his legs dangle off the edge of the bed. Tony can’t see the kid’s face, but he can see the tremors that run along Peter’s back at the sudden change in position. </p>
<p>   “Hey kiddo, maybe you should stay-” </p>
<p>   Naturally, Peter pays him no attention. He slides slowly off the bed, and as soon as his feet hit the ground, his previously-impaled leg gives out and he falls into a heap on the cold tile. Tony rushes to his side, and helps Peter overcome a panic attack of his own. </p>
<p>   <em>Like father, like son</em>, he thinks bitterly. </p>
<p>   “I’m fine.” Skin that is suddenly three shades to pale and red-rimmed eyes do not support the boy’s argument, but Tony nods anyways. Peter’s hands are clutching at Tony’s clothes with such incredible strength as if trying to fuse himself to the fabric. Eventually, it eases, and Peter loses his energy. He slides back to lean against the wall, bad leg stretched out, and Tony joins him silently. </p>
<p>   He lets Peter speak first. “I’m sorry Tony. I tried to be faster, I really did-” </p>
<p>   Astounded, Tony cuts him off with his hand. “Pete, no. Stop right there. That’s being self destructive and we simply don’t welcome that here.” </p>
<p>   Peter must not have the energy to argue. He falls silent. </p>
<p>   “You saved my life Peter.” Looking at Peter’s cast, Tony remembers vividly Peter protecting his own neck in the freefall with his arm. He remembers the horrific sensation of Peter’s bones snapping against his skin. “You did good. I- thank you.” </p>
<p>   Again, Peter doesn’t respond. His eyes are distant, like he’s not in the room. It makes Tony’s heart ache.</p>
<p>   “What’re you thinking about, kiddo?” He asks softly. </p>
<p>   Peter snaps back to reality. Despite everything, he smiles. “Sorry. Nothing. Thanks Mr. Stark. I’m really glad you’re okay.” </p>
<p>   There are a million red flags, but Tony sets them aside. Instead, he helps Peter to bed and waits by his side until he falls asleep. It’s nearly immediate. Tony on the other hand quickly finds the prospect of sleep impossible, so he spends the next two hours drawing sketches of lightsabers and scratching down plans on how he’s going to make one. Peter’s birthday is in two weeks, after all. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>--- </p>
<p>   Three days following his official discharge from medbay, Peter finds himself in his room and attached to copious piles of homework. He’s missed <em>way </em>too much school as of late, and is finding it increasingly difficult to catch up. </p>
<p>   Ned and MJ have come over for a couple hours everyday to help. They make him feel normal, and he loves them for it. Tony, who called him just hours before to let him know he was going out of town for a quick trip, has also been calling quite frequently.</p>
<p>   May is a different story. She’s been a lot quieter since the warehouse, and has subsequently been spending a lot more time in her room. Along with his math equations and essays, he ponders how he can make everything up to her. </p>
<p>   He’s halfway through a sketch of glucose’s structural diagram when a familiar blue notification appears on his screen. Ever since he left the Tower he’s been trying to spend less time in spandex and more time in his textbooks, but this particular alert makes him drop his pencil in a heartbeat. </p>
<p>   <em>Silent alarm tripped at MidTown School of Science and Technology. 12:14 am. </em></p>
<p>   Knowing May is at work lessens his guilt as he fights to pull on his suit as fast as he can. Seconds later, he turns the light off at his desk and drops silently into the city. </p>
<p>   The fresh air does wonders, and for the first time in days Peter feels his face light up in a genuine smile. Then, he’s reminded of the circumstances of his last outing in the city, and immediately his smile is gone. </p>
<p>   When Peter arrives at the familiar building, nothing seems inherently wrong. A part of him is disappointed at the thought of the alarm being a false one, but ultimately decides to investigate anyways. </p>
<p>   Karen indicates an open window on the third floor, and Peter takes it as his entrance. Frankly, the building is creepy at night. It's uncharacteristically empty and dark, and Peter finds himself jumping at silly things like his shadow against a corkboard or the sound of the AC kicking in. </p>
<p>   Then, he hears it. <em>Voices. </em></p>
<p>   Using his webs to stay high, Peter follows the vocal trail towards the south wing of the building. He passes over all his classrooms, and when he finally sees the culprits, he nearly slips from the ceiling. </p>
<p>   There’s four of them clustered in a half circle around a locker. <em>His locker. </em>It’s busted open, and the goon closest is scavenging through it and letting papers and books fall to the ground when they disinterest him. A pair of headphones, his gym shorts, and two mechanical pencils shortly follow. </p>
<p>   “It’s just a big load of nothing.” </p>
<p>   “Well, keep checking,” hisses a woman to his right. Her blond hair is trapped in a long braid behind her back, and her hand rests on a pistol at her hip.</p>
<p>   The man rifling through his possessions throws a tube of deodorant at her with a sneer. “I’m telling you Mel, I’ve checked everything.” </p>
<p>   “You’re sure this one is Parkers?”</p>
<p>   “What kind of a damn question is that? Of course I’m sure.” </p>
<p>   “Well then I hate to break it to you Jeremy but your plan sucks ass.” </p>
<p>   Jeremy slams the locker closed with a disgruntled noise. They don’t pick up his stuff, which, <em>come on, rude</em>, and Jeremy continues his melt down. He folds his hands into his dark hair and paces back and forth on the spot. He seems to be deep in thought, and the other three in his company watch him with mere half interest. </p>
<p>   “Wait. I got it!” Jeremy stops rigidly, a crooked smile splitting across his face. He rips back open Peter’s locker and traces a finger across the class schedule on the door. It stops on one of the top blocks, and Peter can hear him laugh triumphantly. </p>
<p>   “Follow me. Room 136. This will prove it.” </p>
<p>   Confused but willing, the other three stay on Jeremy’s heels as they trek deeper into the school. When they pass under him, Peter holds his breath. Room 136 is Peter’s chem lab. The realization hits him when they're almost to the door. </p>
<p>   <em>Where he makes his web fluid</em>. </p>
<p>   Cursing under his breath, Peter follows them. He drops outside and listens anxiously as they open all the cabinets and drawers. Deciding going in with no plan is better than his identity being discovered, Peter walks into the room casually, forcing his heart rate to stay even. </p>
<p>   For a long moment, no one notices him. He clears his throat dramatically. “Aren’t you guys a little <em>old </em>for highschool?” </p>
<p>   Admittedly not his best work, but the effect is the same. All four goons snap their attention towards him, each one reaching for their belt. </p>
<p>   “Hey, no need for that. There’s enough school shootings as there is. Be the change you want to see in the world.” </p>
<p>   “Spider-Man.” Jeremy studies him carefully, and a sadistic smile graces his lips. His gun is in his hands, but not raised. “I couldn’t have wished for better luck.”</p>
<p>   They walk in unison towards him, slowly caging him against the blackboard. It’s four against one, but Peter knows it’ll be an easy fight. </p>
<p>   “We’ve been waiting for this a long time, Spider-Man.” Mel’s voice is equally venemous. “It’s an honour to finally become acquainted.” </p>
<p>   “Wish I could say the same. What do you want?” </p>
<p>   “<em>To watch you bleed</em>.” </p>
<p>   They must not be particularly keen on monologuing, because in the next second they’re shooting at him. Bullets fly towards his legs, and Peter realizes it’s not their immediate intention to kill him. </p>
<p>   Using the blackboard as a launching pad, Peter flips over them, webbing two of the guns away and hurling them into the far corner as he does so. The goons Peter doesn’t know the names of yell angrily at their disarmament, and Jeremy and Mel fire faster as if to compensate. </p>
<p>   Peter slides under a lab desk, tripping one of the goons and webbing her to the floor. The other disarmed man lunges to stop him, and Peter throws him over his shoulder where he crashes into a case of beakers and lays still. </p>
<p>   Senses going haywire, Peter turns just in time to see Jeremy raising his gun to his back. There’s a loud shot, but Jeremy is the one who cries out in pain. </p>
<p>   Standing at the door of the lab stands Happy. Out of all the events of the night, this is perhaps the most surprising, and it takes Peter a moment to register. Jeremy, too, seems to share the sentiment as he clutches at his sluggishly bleeding thigh, eyebrows drawn together tightly. “What the hell?” </p>
<p>   Mel is the first one to rebound, and she aims her gun at Happy’s head. Peter’s inside go numb as the glass beside Happy’s head shatters, and he fires off three shots of his own.  </p>
<p>   “Happy get out!” Peter pushes Jeremy out of the way and races towards Mel, whose eyes are trained dangerously on Happy. He almost makes it, too. </p>
<p>   A large bang followed by a surge of heat knocks everyone in the room off their feet. There’s a high pitched ringing in Peter’s ears as he struggles to his elbows and knees. From behind, the man he had thrown into the beakers looks triumphant, eyes shining from the explosion he created. There’s dark blood all over his face. It’s gruesome, and Peter looks away. </p>
<p>   His next view is not much better. Mel is standing over Happy and tugs him up to his knees. There’s blood on his forehead. His gun is gone. Mel pulls her own viciously against his temple. Peter cries out, but can’t hear it past the noise in his ears. </p>
<p>   Rough fingers curl against his neck as they too pull him to his knees. Peter doesn’t fight. Mel is staring straight at him, practically daring him to make her pull the trigger that will end Happy’s life. </p>
<p>   “What do you want?” Surprisingly, his voice doesn’t shake. His hearing returns. Well, mostly. </p>
<p>   The fire glinting in Jeremy’s eyes makes Peter’s stomach twist. His request is simple. “Take off the mask.” </p>
<p>   “No-” Happy’s retort is cut off with a pistol whip to the face.  </p>
<p>   “Do it now or he’s dead.” Mel presses the metal impossibly further into Happy’s skull. Peter believes her. “You have three seconds. One, two-” </p>
<p>   God, Peter hates countdowns. He throws up his arms in defeat. “Okay! Okay. Don’t shoot. Please just- just don’t shoot him.” </p>
<p>   Happy groans as Peter fulfills the request. Hot air pushes against his bare face, but he doesn’t wait to see the reactions it warrants. Knowing the man to be distracted, he kicks out at Jeremy, upsetting his balance and ripping the gun out of Mel’s hand with a web. Taking the opportunity, Happy barrels into Mel’s side and she falls.</p>
<p>   Before Peter can help further, Jeremy tackles him from the side. He can feel broken glass from the beakers bite into his arm as Jeremy rolls him bodily onto his back, shifting up to sit heavily on his chest and trapping his arms at his side.</p>
<p>   The smoke is growing thicker, and Peter coughs harshly as he tries to free himself. The noise is cut short as Jeremy’s thick hands wrap around his throat and <em>squeeze</em>. Immediately, all the air in the room is gone, and Peter bucks harder, trying to throw the man off. </p>
<p>   “You’re just a kid.” Jeremy’s voice is emotionless. At a particularly violent jerk, Jeremy digs his nails into his skin, too. “Should’ve stayed on the playground where you belong.” </p>
<p>   Peter must be making noise, because somewhere across the room Happy shouts wildly at Jeremy to stop. It only makes the look in the man’s eyes grow colder, and the pressure, if possible, increases. “Now, now spidey. Be a good little boy for me.” </p>
<p>   Whether it’s the smoke or the lack of air, Peter finds it harder to keep his eyes open. His chest is burning, and his attempts at freedom grow weaker. His hands scrabble uselessly at broken glass where they lay pinned at his sides. Eventually they lay still. </p>
<p>   Again, he thinks of Tony, and regrets not saying what he wanted to when he had the chance. White stars blink in front of his eyes, masquerading Jeremy’s face. The ringing in his ears has returned, and he can’t even hear his own pathetic attempts at breathing anymore. Or maybe he’s not breathing at all. It’s hard to tell. </p>
<p>   Through the haze, he sees a sudden explosion of red. Warm liquid falls on his face, and Jeremy’s grip suddenly loosens. He lists sideways off Peter’s body and lays still. He’s dead. </p>
<p>   Bile rushes up through Peter’s throat. If there were more oxygen in his chest, he’d be screaming. </p>
<p>   Happy appears above him in double, looking anything but what his name describes. Peter tries to reassure him, but he’s not sure his throat works anymore. Jeremy’s still body is visible in his peripheral, a pool of red blossoming around his head like a halo. It doesn’t seem real. Maybe they can still save him-</p>
<p>   “You’re okay kid. <em>Shit</em>. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. Tony’s going to kill me.” </p>
<p>   Peter shakes his head, coughs, and nearly blacks out. His vision is failing, and barely feels it as Happy drags him from the lab and out of the school. A surplus of flashing lights meets them with the fresh air. There’s ambulances, fire trucks, and paramedics swarming the bus lane. Very suddenly Peter remembers that his mask is gone. </p>
<p>   Using all his strength, Peter manages to pull himself from Happy’s grip. He stumbles only for a moment before firing a web to the roof. When he reaches it, he collapses, buries his head in his arm, and can’t stop another cough from tearing through his throat. It feels like he had blended broken glass and rubble and drank it for breakfast, and blood splatters the cement underneath him. <em>Not good.</em> It takes a long time to reoriente himself, but when he does, he staggers to the edge of the building and swings home. </p>
<p>   He doesn’t look back. </p>
<p>--- </p>
<p>   Happy calls him seven times. He ignores them all. </p>
<p>   It’s nearly three in the morning when Peter crawls through his window. May must still be at work, because he flops ungraciously onto the hardwood and no one comes to investigate. For an indefinite amount of time, he just lays under his window and practices taking shallow breaths through his nose. He’ll never take oxygen for granted again. </p>
<p>   Happy calls him again, and Peter declines but opts to shoot him a text. ‘<em>I’m fine. Don’t worry.</em>’ </p>
<p>   A second later, he adds <em>‘u ok?’ </em> </p>
<p>   The response is immediate. </p>
<p>   ‘<em>Don’t worry my ass </em></p>
<p>
  <em>   Where are you? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>   You better not be laying in a dumpster somewhere I swear to God.’ </em>
</p>
<p>Again, Peter smiles. Happy will be fine. <em>‘You wish. I’m at home. Going to sleep it off.’  </em></p>
<p>Peter can see Happy typing, but he powers off his phone and slips out of his suit. Walking is more than difficult, and he barely makes it to the bathroom. Tears mix with water as he scrubs a dead man’s blood off his face. </p>
<p>   He dreams of fire, cement, and blood. </p>
<p>--- </p>
<p>   When he wakes up, it’s still dark. The familiar soft glow of his desk lamp illuminates the room, and it takes him a long time to process the fact that he had fallen asleep in darkness. </p>
<p>   The answer to this particular mystery sits on his rolling chair at the foot of his bed. It’s Tony. His head is in his hands, and he doesn’t seem to notice Peter’s sudden bout of consciousness. </p>
<p>   A deep and ferocious ache in his throat reminds him of the night’s activities, and he wants nothing more than to roll over and go back to sleep. He knows talking will be hell, but somehow, letting Tony sit there in silence is worse. </p>
<p>   “T’ny.” Yep, that was the worst. Peter pushes his head farther into his pillow as he blinks away stars. </p>
<p>   Tony jerks upwards. Peter expects him to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he stares at Peter calculatingly, like he’s a broken machine that needs to be fixed. Even before he had fallen asleep, his neck had been laced with dark bruises and red half moon crescents. He knew his healing factor had been doing its job, but he’s sure it doesn’t look much better.</p>
<p>   “How’d you get in here? ‘S kinda creepy, not goin t’ lie.” </p>
<p>   Again, silence. More and more often, he finds his stupid attempts at humor falling flat. He tries a different angle. “H’ppy?” </p>
<p>   Finally, Tony gives in. His voice is cold. “At the Tower getting patched up. The ambulance took him there. He told me you were being a dumbass and decided to swing home right after being goddamn <em>asphyxiated</em>.” </p>
<p>   There’s a hollow feeling in Peter’s stomach. Weakly, he tries to smile. “Well, I made it, didn’t I? No dumpster diving this time.” </p>
<p>   “No, no, no. Peter this is where you stop. Of all the stupid, reckless, irresponsible- <em>what the hell</em> were you thinking?” Tony stands suddenly, and Peter can practically feel the man’s emotion in the air. His reaction rubs Peter the wrong way and he uses the top of his bunk bed to heave himself upwards. The adrenaline from the conversation numbs the pain in his throat. </p>
<p>   “<em>Which part?</em>” Peter seethes. Everything about this argument is unfair. “The part where I saved Happy’s<em> life</em> after he stalked me all the way to Midtown?”</p>
<p>   “He wasn’t stalking you, so stop being so goddamn dramatic about things you don’t understand. He was doing me a favor. And for good reason, apparently. You almost died. <em>Again. </em>I’m starting to see a pattern here, Parker.” </p>
<p>   “A favor? <em>You</em> told him to follow me?” Peter is thunderstruck. His words die as a harrowing cough shakes through his entire body and he clutches at his sheets desperately while the fit passes. Peter can see Tony’s eyes soften slightly, and it makes him even more angry. “You leave town for a couple hours and assign me a <em>babysitter</em>?” He’s so furious, his ears start to ring. “I can take care of myself!” </p>
<p>   “If Happy wasn’t there, you’d be dead. End of story.” </p>
<p>   “No! If Happy wasn’t there, there wouldn’t have been any leverage to keep me on the ground! I would’ve been out of there in five seconds if he hadn’t been so stupid-” </p>
<p>   Tony throws his hands into the air and starts pacing the length of the room. “Peter Benjamin Parker. I swear to God-” </p>
<p>   “I’ve been doing this for <em>years </em>Tony! Stop treating me like I’m still fifteen. I’m not a kid anymore!” </p>
<p>   “You <em>are </em>a kid. You sleep in a bunk bed.” </p>
<p>   Peter gaps, lost for words. “I’m almost eighteen!” </p>
<p>   “Well you’re sure as hell not acting like it!” </p>
<p>   Peter feels a heat in his chest more fierce than the fire in the chem lab. Every word hurts, but it’s worth it. “Who saved you at the warehouse?” He knows it’s a low blow. He doesn’t care. “If it weren’t for me, you’d be gone too. Just like Ben. Just like my parents. Just like that man that Happy killed tonight. He was sitting on top of me when it happened. I could feel the exact moment when he-” </p>
<p>   His sentence dies as he gags. He rolls onto the floor and hugs a basket into his chest. Even his adrenaline does nothing to mask the agony that follows, and for the second time that night all the air in the room seems to leave. </p>
<p>   Tony is at his side in an instant. He can feel his warm hand on his back. His first reaction is to shake him off, but he doesn’t have the energy. When the episode is over, he pushes away the basket and presses his forehead into the floor. Hot tears leak out from behind his eyelids and onto the hardwood, but he doesn’t make a sound. He feels completely numb.</p>
<p>   “Oh, Peter.” </p>
<p>   The pity is worse than the anger, Peter decides. He feels weaker than he ever has in his life. He wishes he could disappear into the ground. </p>
<p>   “Kiddo.” There’s a hand in his hair. “I’m sorry.” </p>
<p>   “Stop-” Peter forces himself up and scoots away from his mentor, collapsing against the side of his bed. “I told you I’m fine.” </p>
<p>   “It’s okay if you’re not-” </p>
<p>   “I am. I want you to leave.” </p>
<p>   Tony sighs deeply through his nose. His suit is rumbled and creased where it usually isn’t. He looks older. “Alright kid. I’ll go. I know what you’ve been through lately hasn’t been easy.” He pauses. “It’s okay to be scared.”</p>
<p>   Peter wishes he wasn’t crying. He knows Tony has hit it right on the money. Slowly, the anger leaves him almost as quickly as it had come. “I just- I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” </p>
<p>   “There’s nothing wrong with you Peter. You hear me? Look at me. Nothing at all. I’m scared too. It’s normal. It’s human. It’s <em>okay.</em>” </p>
<p>   “Tony.” Peter’s voice is small and it cracks like a sheet of ice. “On the roof, right before the bomb went off, you told me you loved me.” It’s not a question.</p>
<p>   The lines beside Tony’s eyes crinkle, but he doesn’t smile. He looks more serious than Peter has ever seen him in his life. “I did and I meant it. You’re family, Pete, and I’m sorry I never said it sooner.” </p>
<p>   All the fight evaporates from Peter’s body. He stares dumbly at Tony. “Oh.” </p>
<p>   An unreadable expression passes over Tony’s face. <em>It’s now or never.</em> </p>
<p>   “Tony?” </p>
<p>   “Yeah, kid?” </p>
<p>   “I love you too.” </p>
<p>   Tony smiles. It’s genuine and it heals the ache in Peter’s chest. Taking it as an invitation, he scoots over to Peter’s side and they mold together, Peter resting his head on Tony’s shoulder. </p>
<p>   “I wanted to say it back at the warehouse, but you know…” </p>
<p>   “It was about to explode.” Tony’s voice is light. </p>
<p>   “Yeah.” Peter says softly. He’s staring at a spot above his dresser, where a framed certificate from his Stark Internship hangs. “Thanks for being here.” </p>
<p>   “Anytime, kiddo. Like I said, we’re family. And family sticks together no matter what.” </p>
<p>   And just like that, for a fragment of a moment, everything is perfect. </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>THANKS FOR READING!! You're all the best &lt;3 We're getting close to the end of this fic! Stay tuned- chapter 5 should be up really soon! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Atlas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Peter tries to make things up to May by taking her out for a fun night in the city. Unsurprisingly, things don't go as planned.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello hello hello :) Who needs to study for midterms when you can write instead??!<br/>Hope you enjoy chapter 5!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>   Two weeks pass without too much excitement. Peter heals, studies, and gradually finds the amount of times he wakes up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat decreasing. His grades get infinitely better, he gets to spend more time with Ned and MJ, and Mr. Stark promised no more babysitting on his patrols, which have also gone off without a hitch. </p>
<p>   Tonight, he's making things up to May. </p>
<p>   They're walking back from the movies, each holding up an ice cream cone that Peter had bought from an old parlour Ned had found last summer. May with vanilla, Peter with chocolate. The sun is making its final appearance on the horizon, casting long dark shadows across the cement where they walk. </p>
<p>   May is in a better mood than Peter has seen her in months. Soft music could be heard from an apartment window somewhere above, and May dances as she walks. “Come on, Peter, show me your moves.” </p>
<p>   She grabs his hand and spins him under her arm. Peter snorts a laugh and holds onto his ice cream tighter, pulling out of the movement. “Dancing is your thing, May.” </p>
<p>   “Alright, alright. Your loss.” </p>
<p>   Eventually, the music fades, and May slows to her normal gait. The city lights shine around them brightly like hundreds of stars, reflecting off May’s glasses as she smiles. </p>
<p>   “That movie was terrible.” </p>
<p>   Peter nods in agreement. “Yeah. Especially the part when the guy just dropped that girl over the cliff. Like, come on- he totally could’ve pulled her up.” </p>
<p>   “Bad cinema,” May echoes. It’s getting colder, and she pulls tighter at her jean jacket. “The best part about it was laughing at how bad it was. Totally worth the money.” </p>
<p>   “I don’t think the people behind us liked us very much.” </p>
<p>   May shows her disagreement with an offhand gesture. “If it weren’t for us, they would’ve been out ten bucks. At least we gave them the entertainment they paid for.” </p>
<p>   Peter can’t think of a response, so he just laughs. It's been a long time since him and May have done something together, and it feels good. Between her long shifts at the hospital, and everything that competes for Peter’s attention, it seems like they were rarely ever in the same room at the same time anymore. </p>
<p>   They’re getting close to home. Peter can see his breath as they walk. </p>
<p>   “Are you excited for your birthday tomorrow?” May asks. </p>
<p>   “Yeah, but Mr. Stark really doesn’t have to throw a party. I’m good with just something simple at home.” </p>
<p>   “No way. Tony practically begged me to have it at the Tower. I think he’s more excited than you. Happy said he’s been planning it for weeks.” </p>
<p>   For some reason, this makes Peter’s cheeks warm. He thinks back to his last conversation with Tony on his bedroom floor after the Midtown fiasco, when Tony had told him he was family. He’s been thinking about that a lot, lately. “Well, Ned almost passed out when I told him, and even MJ looked pretty excited. So I guess it’ll be okay.” </p>
<p>   May snorts and they walk in comfortable silence for another two blocks. Later, Peter will blame it on his strayed thoughts that he wasn’t paying attention. He’ll blame himself for letting his guard down, for letting himself think he could catch a break. </p>
<p>   Only a couple streets away from home, two figures emerge from the alley to their left with impressive speed. They’re both wearing dark masks, like the one Peter’s kidnapper had worn, and it makes all the air deflate out of his chest. Numbly, he feels the remainders of his cone fall out of his fingers. </p>
<p>   “In the alley.” The largest of the group’s voice is low and threatening. Even May must see the jagged knife in his fist, because they both comply silently. As they travel into the shadows, Peter feels his heart beat so savagely against his ribs, he wouldn’t be surprised if they cracked. <em>May. Keep May safe. </em></p>
<p>   “Aright, darling.” Peter feels one of the men grab onto his shoulder with a steel grip. Their eyes are trained on May. “Give us your purse and you can go.”</p>
<p>   Throughout his years as Spider-Man, Peter must have stopped hundreds of these kinds of things. But this time it’s May, and it’s <em>terrifying</em>.  </p>
<p>   “Okay.” May looks brave. She doesn’t shake as she throws her bag at the man. “Here you go.” She shifts her fierce gaze to the man holding Peter. “Now let my nephew go.” </p>
<p>   The man holding her purse smiles from behind his mask. To everyone’s surprise, he drops the purse on the ground. “A feisty one. What’s your name, doll?” </p>
<p>   May stands her ground, but Peter’s insides turn to ice. The man is advancing towards her, and when he reaches out to touch the side of her face, something in Peter snaps. </p>
<p>   It’s like he’s not in control of his body. He throws his head back and smashes in the nose of the man holding him. He crumples in an instant, and Peter is barreling into the man touching May before he hits the ground. May yells something from behind, but he can’t make out the words. There’s a low static in his ears as he holds the man to the ground by the neck. The man is choking, just like Peter had been weeks earlier. He feels like he’s above the scene watching, that the hands closing off the man’s airway aren’t his. </p>
<p>   “<em>Peter! Peter I’m okay, it’s okay. Peter, honey. Stop!” </em></p>
<p>   Immediately, Peter comes back to himself and relieves the pressure. He feels sick. In the middle of taking great gasps of air, the man twists underneath him. At first, Peter thinks it's in an effort to dislodge him, but he feels a sharp burn under his ribs and instantly realizes his mistake. </p>
<p>   He doesn’t let himself cry out. He hits the man in the head, and he goes limp underneath him. With his back still turned on May, he looks down at the gruesome hilt of the knife sticking out of his abdomen and pulls it out before his vision warps. </p>
<p>   It hurts, but the shock is still doing him favours. Luckily, he’s wearing a web shooter, and he lifts his shirt to staunch the bleeding. Immediately the webbing turns crimson, but it holds. </p>
<p>   “Peter!” May’s warm hand appears on his shoulder. “Peter, are you okay?” </p>
<p>   He takes a calculated breath deep into his chest. It fills the entirety of his lungs and pushes out the pain. He stands without wincing. He wants to hug May, but he knows he’ll get blood on her. “Yeah. Are you? I’m so sorry. I couldn’t- I couldn’t let him-” </p>
<p>   Tears are burning at his eyes, and May grabs his face in her hands. He wipes her thumbs across his cheekbones and stares deep into his eyes. “I’m okay. We both are.” </p>
<p>   He feels numb relief course through him and it makes his knees weak. He nods against her hands and closes his eyes at the comfort it brings. “Let’s go home, please.” </p>
<p>   “Okay. Okay, let’s go.” </p>
<p>   May’s voice is tight, and her grip around his shoulders even tighter. As they leave the alley, Peter picks up her fallen purse and carries it home for her. He feels light and floaty, and pain sparks through him in everys step. He knows he needs to stitch up the wound sooner than later or he’ll be in trouble. </p>
<p>   They don’t talk the rest of the way, but May keeps muttering things under her breath that Peter can’t decipher through the fog in his head. He tries to walk as normally as he can, but can’t help it when his foot catches on the cracks in the pavement or the groove walking into the elevator. </p>
<p>   Once home, they both collapse onto the couch. May’s previous happiness has evaporated. Now, she looks weary and sad. Peter takes her hand and holds it tight. He doesn’t look at her when tears pool in her eyes and fall. More nausea runs through him, though he’s unsure if it’s from the stab wound or seeing his Aunt so upset. </p>
<p>   It’s both.</p>
<p>   “I’m sorry May.” His voice is hollow and barely distinguishable. As they sit there together, Peter wonders how exactly they arrived at this particular chapter of their lives. There was so much pain and hurt. Scars that would never heal back to living flesh. Empty holes that would never be filled. Fears that would never turn to comfort. Despite the rational voice in his head, Peter couldn’t help but think it was all his fault. If he wasn’t Spider-Man, or if his parents hadn’t died, or if he got in less trouble at school, maybe May would be happy. </p>
<p>   As his thoughts spiral away like murky water down a drain, he feels May squeeze his hand back. Her eyes are closed, glasses sliding gently down her face. “Don’t apologize.” She’s falling asleep. It’s an adrenaline crash, something he’s more than familiar with. “I love you so much Peter.” </p>
<p>   “Love you too, May.” Peter hates it, but he feels a tear on his cheek. He wipes it away hastily, and it’s like it never existed. The wound in his side burns so badly now he has to bite on the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood to distract himself. </p>
<p>   Minutes later, May is asleep. </p>
<p>   Getting up is hard. Peter slips his hand away delicately, letting May’s rest on the couch alone. He sticks his fist in his mouth to stifle the cry that threatens to escape his throat as he stands, and tucks a blanket around May’s frame as he leaves the room. </p>
<p>   He doesn’t look at his reflection when he enters the bathroom. Pulling open the cabinet, he retrieves his first aid kit and pops open the lid. </p>
<p>   “Damn it.” Peter closes his eyes and leans his head against the cool wall at his side. He’s so hot all of a sudden, like the air is on fire. He forgot that the last time he had gone through the ringer, he had used the last of his thread. He’d never replaced it. </p>
<p>   “<em>Idiot</em>,” Peter muttered moodily under his breath. He hikes up the bottom of his shirt to assess the wound, hoping to see it magically gone. Of course it’s not. In fact, it’s worse, and warm blood is starting to leak through the edges of his makeshift bandage. </p>
<p>   “Okay. Plan B.” </p>
<p>   Peter feels a lot like Atlas, who was tricked into holding up the weight of the world alone. He wanders through the living room past May’s sleeping form and locks the door behind him. It’s colder, now. Or maybe it’s just the bloodloss. </p>
<p>   The subway is relatively empty, and Peter tries to stay conscious by counting the flashes of light that pass through the dark glass. When it makes him too dizzy, he starts reciting the elements of the periodic table in order in his head. He gets to Cadmium, and forgets what comes next. </p>
<p>   Eventually, he reaches his stop. When he stands, he falls to one knee when his body protests at holding his weight. A nice older man helps him stand, and Peter manages to make it to the doors before they close. It’s a couple more blocks, and he strays as far as he can from the ominous mouths of alleyways on his journey. Mailboxes and light poles catch him when he stumbles. </p>
<p>   Finally, he makes it to the Tower. </p>
<p>   Ignoring the blood he leaves behind on the door as he pushes it open, he steps into the elevator and hangs onto the wall tightly as he ascends up to medbay. Everything is blurred and distorted. He’s running on fumes. </p>
<p>   The elevator dings softly as it opens. He hates how much time he’s spent up here lately. Hates how the white, sterile environment and hospital beds are now familiar, almost comforting.</p>
<p>   Dragging his feet becomes preferable to taking actual steps. In fact, nearly everything, including blinking, is becoming impossible. When he finally makes it to the supply cabinet, he more than falls against it, and takes three deep breaths that bring tears to his eyes before he can straighten up to grab a suture kit. </p>
<p>   Knowing this one will have what he needs, Peter hugs it to his chest and slides down to the ground. It takes another three breaths to clear the white lights slowly gathering in his eyes. </p>
<p>   Ten long minutes pass as Peter struggles to thread the needle. His hands are shaking so badly he even manages to drop it twice. Finally, it works. </p>
<p>   Nearly being two hours since he’d used his webs, most of it has already dissolved, and it doesn’t take much to remove it. He presses a scratchy white towel against his side and waits until the bleeding slows. He doesn’t feel quite ready for what comes next. </p>
<p>   The first time he had stitched himself up, he had thrown up and then passed out. He’s had a lot of practice since then, but it’s still not his favorite thing in the world. He bites the tender part on his cheek he had previously used as a distraction, and it helps take the edge off. </p>
<p>   He’s almost done when his senses thrum gently. He knows he isn’t alone. </p>
<p>   “Oh Pete.” </p>
<p>   Tony stands under the doorframe, leaning against it and looking just as tired as May. He doesn’t look angry though, so Peter continues his work. “Hi Tony. Sorry. I know I didn’t ask to use your stuff.” </p>
<p>   “Consider it as part of your birthday present.” Tony’s voice is light, but pinched. He comes to Peter’s side and sits comfortably beside him. “Here, let me do that.” </p>
<p>   Peter hesitates. “You don’t have to-” </p>
<p>   “I hate seeing you do that to yourself. Please kiddo just humor me.” </p>
<p>   “Okay.” </p>
<p>   Peter studies his blood stained fingertips as Tony takes the reign. He’s a lot faster and a lot more coordinated, and in a matter of minutes there’s clean white gauze taped to his side and an unopened strawberry lollipop in his hand, much to Tony’s amusement. </p>
<p>   “Thanks.” The worst of it is over, and he feels weak with relief. His head feels disconnected from his body. </p>
<p>   “What happened?” </p>
<p>   Peter doesn’t want to relive it, but he tells Tony anyways. The man listens patiently, doesn’t interrupt and keeps his expression neutral, which Peter appreciates. When he’s done, he feels significantly lighter. He even opens the candy Tony had given him and sticks it in his mouth. </p>
<p>   “You did good, kid. I’m sorry it happened, but you did good. And for the love of all things holy let someone help you next time. You shouldn’t have to sew yourself up. It’s disgusting and frankly distasteful. Capiche?”  </p>
<p>   “Capiche.” </p>
<p>   “You’re not a burden Pete, so stop acting like it. We’re with you not against you.” </p>
<p>   Peter smiles behind the sucker. He doesn’t need to verbalize his gratitude. Somehow, he knows Tony understands exactly how he feels. “What are you doing up this late anyways?” </p>
<p>   At this, Tony breaks their eye contact. He’s smiling. “Setting up for you big birthday bash, which thankfully you’ll be alive for-” He trails off, checking his watch, and his eyes widen with excitement. “12:03! Happy birthday Pete!” </p>
<p>   Peter laughs and it makes him wince. A horrible pain ignites through his chest, but his smile remains stubbornly on his face. “I told you I’d survive to see my eighteenth birthday! You didn’t believe me!” </p>
<p>   “Do you realize you were <em>literally </em>bleeding out from a stab wound like 15 minutes ago?” </p>
<p>   “Hey, that was a lifetime ago Mr. Stark. I’m an <em>adult </em>now. I’ve abandoned my old ways.” </p>
<p>   “Well, eighteen still ends in ‘teen’ so I’d say you still have a little ways to go.” </p>
<p>   “How dare you.” </p>
<p>   “And you’re eating a lollipop, which doesn’t exactly help your case.” </p>
<p>   “Stop slandering me on my birthday!” </p>
<p>   Tony laughs. He grabs a lollipop of his own. “Fine. Are you going to stay the night?”</p>
<p>   The question sobers Peter up a little. “No, I shouldn’t. I don’t want Aunt May to wake up alone.” </p>
<p>   “Can I drive you?” </p>
<p>   Normally, Peter would say no. But he just got stabbed <em>and </em>it’s his birthday. Frankly, he feels justified in an exception. “Actually yeah that’d be great. Thanks.” </p>
<p>   Tony helps him stand. The pain catches him off guard and he loses his breath, sees stars, and drops his sucker. Tony gives him a new one when he pouts and helps him limp to the garage. </p>
<p>   When they pull up beside the curb neighboring Peter’s apartment, Tony puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. Peter is reminded of the moment years earlier when Tony had dropped him off after their trip to Germany and given him the suit. He remembers how he had thought the man was giving Peter a hug, but had just been opening the door. The memory makes him laugh. </p>
<p>   “What’s so funny underoos?” </p>
<p>   “Nothing. I’m just happy, I guess.” </p>
<p>   And despite everything, Peter is surprised to find that he means it. Tony chuckles and ruffles his hair and waves as Peter gets out. He rolls down the window before Peter makes it to the door. </p>
<p>   “Prepare yourself for your party, Pete! It’s going to be legendary. Biggest event of the year!” </p>
<p>   Peter smiles again. Maybe broken things can heal after all. “Thanks for everything, Mr. Stark.” </p>
<p>   Tony flashes him a thumbs up and pulls away. Peter watches until the taillights fade, then goes inside. He’s not cold anymore. May hasn’t moved a muscle since he left, and he lays back beside her on the couch. It doesn’t take long for sleep to take him. </p>
<p>   This time, his dreams are mercifully empty. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ALRIGHT ONE CHAPTER TO GO! Be forewarned, it's going to be a wild ride so buckle up! Next stop, Peter's 18th birthday party! (Also thanks again for all the support. This is my first multi chaptered fic and I've had so much fun writing it!) I have midterms this week, but chapter 6 should be up soon??? Fingers crossed! &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Birthday</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Much to everyone's surprise, Peter does survive to to see his eighteenth birthday. The question is, then, will he survive to see the end of it?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ALRIGHT! Wow, here we are at the end. I can't believe it! I'm grateful for you all being on this crazy rollercoaster with me, and I reeeally hope you enjoy this lil' cherry on top :) Sorry it's so much longer than the other chapters! I couldn't help myself ;) Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>   Tony doesn’t care how egocentric it sounds. He knows how to throw a damn good party.  </p><p>   Owing to hours of work between himself, Happy, and Pepper, the penthouse at the Tower has changed dramatically. Opposed to the trinity of clean, sleek, and dark that Tony has come to adopt, every available surface is now exploding with color. Silver streamers and balloons cover nearly every surface and an impressive arrangement of food coats long rows of tables decorated with gold. Red and blue LED lights pulse and flash across the walls in beat to a playlist that Tony had spent hours putting together. Most of them consist of songs Peter had reacted best to during their lab times, sometimes even abandoning projects all together to dance. </p><p>   They’ve become Tony’s favorites too. </p><p>   Occupied with last minute touches, Tony hasn’t been very aware of the guests steadily filling the room. When he takes a step back he recognizes Rhodey and Sam talking by a bowl of vivid red punch, surrounded by half a dozen of his employees. Bruce is in a locked conversation with one of the security guards on the sofa and even Nat has made an appearance. She’s sitting at the bar. </p><p>   Pepper suddenly fills the space beside him. She looks characteristically beautiful and there’s a content look on her face that he hasn’t seen in weeks. “You did good, Tony.” </p><p>   “Well I couldn’t have done it without you.” </p><p>   “That’s true.” She gently laces their fingers together and holds tight. “Peter’s going to love it.” </p><p>   “I hope so.” At the mention of the guest of honor, his stomach gives a surprising jolt. For some reason, it matters a lot to him what Peter thinks about tonight. He squeezes Pepper’s hand and together they sway to the music. </p><p>   Happy joins them. He’s holding a clear drink in his hand with an umbrella sticking out of the glass. He too, smiles widely. “They’re on their way up. May just called.” </p><p>   Keeping his expression neutral, Tony nods his thanks. From underneath a table to their right, Happy Jr., the cat that Peter had unintentionally adopted a few weeks prior, walks out and sits right in front of the man he was named after. He stares up at him and meows loudly. </p><p>   Happy narrows his eyes at the animal, holding his drink a little tighter. Much to Peter’s repeated dismay, Happy wasn’t exactly an animal lover. “Why did Peter name this thing after me anyways?” </p><p>   “You don’t see the resemblance?” Pepper laughs. </p><p>   “No!” </p><p>   “Personally I think the cat is cuter,” Tony chimes in. Pepper covers her laugh with her hand and Happy sputters indignantly as he shoos Happy Jr. away towards another group of guests. Before the man can formally retaliate however, his eyes catch a familiar face at the door and he leaves them in an instant. </p><p>   Tony watches as Happy cuts through the room to get to May. Her face lights up when she sees him, and they embrace warmly. Behind them, Tony can just barely see Peter flanked closely by Ned and MJ. His heart skips and Pepper nudges him away. “What are you waiting for? Go say hi!” </p><p>   Tony doesn’t need to be told twice and follows Happy’s path hastily through the room. As he draws closer he sees Peter’s mouth is hanging wide open. It’s the reaction he’d been hoping for and it makes him smile.</p><p>   Peter stands between his friends wearing simple black jeans and a loose blue button up, the sleeves hiked up unevenly to his elbows. His brown eyes are wide when the lock onto Tony’s, reflecting the room’s flashing lights. </p><p>   “Tony? What? How-” </p><p>   “Happy birthday, Pete.” Tony pulls the kid into his side, and perhaps despite himself, presses a kiss on the top of his unruly hair. He begins taking him on a tour of the festivities, Ned and MJ trailing behind with mutual astonishment. </p><p>   “This is amazing!” Peter looks happily at everything they pass. He’s walking with a slight limp and Tony has to slow down to accommodate. A part of him wants to ask about the healing stab wound but doesn’t want to dilute the kid’s excitement. “I’ve never seen anything like this! We usually just go to the movies. You really didn’t have to go through this much trouble...” </p><p>   “Course I did.” Tony pats Peter on his shoulder. “You deserve it, kiddo.” </p><p>   Maybe it’s just the red lights, but Tony thinks Peter blushes. Both of them have had unfailing smiles since Peter’s arrival. “Thanks Tony.” </p><p>   They stop their tour at the food table. MJ picks up a cupcake, stares at it suspiciously, then takes a bite. “Nice place.” </p><p>   It’s such a monotonous comment that Tony doesn’t know whether or not to respond. To his left, Ned’s smile is arguably the widest. His hands are in his hair as he gazes around his environment. “Is that the Hulk? And Black Widow? No freaking way! This is the best day of my life. By far. Nothing even comes close. Peter pinch me I’ve got to be dreaming-” </p><p>   His verbal excitement dies down as Peter shoots him a pleading look, but his expression doesn’t falter. He pinches himself and laughs when nothing changes. He looks at Tony with heroic wonder. “Thank you Mr. Ironman sir. This is awesome!” </p><p>   “Of course. Have fun. Welcome to adulthood Pete.” </p><p>   As Tony leaves them, he can just barely hear Peter’s voice call out at him through the music. “<em>Adulthood?</em> So you admit it!” </p><p>   Tony can’t help but smirk. It’s going to be a good night. </p><p>---</p><p>   This is quite possibly the best birthday ever. </p><p>   Time passes in a blur. His reality becomes dancing and music and food and talking to the people he loves most in the world. For the first time in weeks, he feels completely whole. </p><p>   “Hey Peter!” </p><p>   Peter spins sharply, suddenly very aware of how sweaty he is. He hides the cookie in his hand behind his back and lets it drop to the floor. “Dr. Banner! How- how are you?” </p><p>   “Quite well, thanks.” Bruce smiles, and Peter returns it naturally. “Nice party.” </p><p>   “Thanks. It was all Mr. Stark.” </p><p>   Bruce nods knowingly, eyes travelling across the room to look at Tony who is laughing at the bar with Nat. “He hasn’t thrown something like this in years. It must mean a lot to him.” </p><p>   For the second time that night, Peter feels himself blush. He doesn’t quite know how to respond, but is saved from the obligation as Ned joins them. As he has all night, he gushes and shakes Bruce’s hand vigorously. “Mr. Hulk sir! I’ve always wanted to meet you! Do you think you could sign my shirt?” </p><p>   Before Peter can intercept, MJ appears beside him and grabs his hand. A soft song fills the room. The lights are low. “Come on loser, we’re dancing.” </p><p>   Nerves shoot down to his toes as he allows himself to be walked to the center of the dance floor. MJ takes the lead and molds their bodies together. He follows her movements and they sway together as one. Peter tries not to think of the implications too deeply, but knows that now it’s <em>definitely</em> the best birthday ever. </p><p>   “Why have you been limping all night?” </p><p>   “I haven’t.” </p><p>   “Yes you have.” </p><p>   Peter sighs. Out of the corner of his eye, he’s very aware of May and Tony standing beside each other and staring at them. “Alright, detective. I got stabbed last night.” </p><p>   MJ’s expression doesn’t change. It makes him like her even more. “Of course you did. Dork.” </p><p>   “I’m not complaining. It’s been the best birthday present yet. Arguably top ten of all time.” </p><p>   “Well you haven’t gotten my present yet, so I wouldn’t finalize that list if I were you.” </p><p>   Heat again gathers on his cheeks. <em>God</em> he needs to stop that. He holds onto her tighter. The song is ending. “Okay. I look forward to it.” </p><p>   She smiles and suddenly it’s the only thing in the whole world that matters. Even the aching pain in his side fades for a moment. <em>Definitely top ten</em>. </p><p>   At the final note, Ned runs up to them with his usual social obliviousness and they split apart. “Look, look!” He turns around to show a neat signature on his right shoulder blade. “Hulk signed my shirt!” </p><p>   “His name is Bruce, Ned.” </p><p>   “Doesn’t matter. He signed it and I'm never taking it off!” </p><p>   MJ steals Peter one last glance. Her eyes are shining. “I’m going to get some more punch.” </p><p>   She leaves. Peter watches her go before rounding on Ned. “Come on, man. Stop being weird with the Avengers!” </p><p>   “You knew what would happen if you brought me here Peter! I warned you thoroughly.” </p><p>   “Come on-” </p><p>   “I’m not apologizing.” His eyes light up at the sight of something behind Peter’s shoulder. “Oh wow! Mr. War Machine Sir!” </p><p>   Peter watches him go, mouthing a humorous <em>‘sorry’</em> to Rhodey who is glaring daggers in his direction. He watches the trainwreck for a moment, then works his way over to the bar. Mr. Stark is sitting alone now and Peter slides in the seat to his right. </p><p>   Tony’s eyes light up when he sees him, taking in his disheveled appearance. “Having fun? You’ve been dancing up a storm. Did May teach you those moves?” </p><p>   Unwilling to admit it, Peter just laughs. A giant silver banner is strung over the bar that reads ‘<em>Happy Birthday Underoos!’. </em>Something unfamiliar twists in his heart. </p><p>   “I hope you know how much this means to me Mr. Stark. I don’t even know what to say.” </p><p>   Tony studies his face. He looks bemused. “Well you’ve never had a billionaire in the family before, have you?” </p><p>   <em>Family</em>. The word seems to be coming up more and more now. It still makes his heart skip a beat. “Yeah, I guess so.” </p><p>   Tony straightens and signals to the bartender. “Alright enough wallflowering. You’ve got a party to rule. Can you get him a drink, please? Virgin, of course.” </p><p>   Seconds later, a cool glass is pressed into his hand by the bartender. No sooner afterwards, Tony is coaxing him up and pushing him back towards the dance floor. “Go get the girl, Pete!” </p><p>   Smirking, Peter shoos his comment away and takes a long drink from his cup. He hasn’t realized how <em>thirsty</em> he’s been, and the glass is empty before he can even spot Ned and MJ through the crowd. </p><p>   He takes a couple more steps, and suddenly the music morphs from a loud rock song to a murmur. It’s weird, but no one else seems to notice. They’re dancing and yelling out the lyrics, but are they really words?</p><p>   Walking suddenly becomes harder, and his stomach twists violently. This surprises him more than the sudden change in the music and he decidedly changes his direction towards the bathroom. It’s like he’s looking at everything through a fog and doesn’t feel it when he knocks into the people he passes. His body is numb.</p><p>   <em>Am I sick?</em> </p><p>   But no, he can’t be! He needs to dance with MJ again. The thought stops him in his tracks. Before he can turn around, a firm grip suctions to his elbow. It guides him towards his original destination and he stumbles a little bit at the resumed motion. Whoever’s holding him is walking a lot faster than Peter feels prepared for and it makes him horribly dizzy. </p><p>   “M’ St’k?” <em>Woah</em>. What happened to his voice? </p><p>   “You’re okay, kid. Just keep walking.” </p><p>   “M’kay.” </p><p>   The blurred music gradually fades and the heat of the party evaporates. It makes him shiver. He wants to go back. He resists against the hand on his arm but it doesn’t budge. </p><p>   “<em>Wait!</em> Don’ feel good.” Peter’s heart is beating very fast in his ears. Somewhere in the distance he hears the sound of shattering glass. It’s only when he feels it crunch under his shoes that he realizes he’s dropped his glass. </p><p>   Mr. Stark doesn’t pay him any attention and continues dragging him along. They stop at the elevator, which opens immediately for them. Mr. Stark pushes him inside and he falls to his knees, gulping in air through his mouth. </p><p>   When he looks up, it’s not Mr. Stark at all, and the last of the warmth in Peter’s body disappears.  </p><p>   “Who’re you?” His tongue feels thick, and the man’s masked face swims in double above him. <em>Not good. Not good. </em></p><p>   “Not important. Be quiet.” </p><p>   Peter groans and presses his forehead into the floor. “N’ cool man. ‘S my brday.” </p><p>   God. He’s never been so dizzy in his life. When the elevator jerks to stop he almost throws up for real.</p><p>   “Come on.” The man pulls him up and carries him out. There’s cold wind on his face, but he can’t seem to open his eyes anymore. </p><p>   “You got him.” </p><p>   “Obviously. It wasn’t that hard.” </p><p>   “Did anyone see?” </p><p>   “No.” </p><p>   “Okay, good. Tie him up.” </p><p>   “I don’t think he’s going anywhere-” </p><p>   “Do it!” </p><p>   “Fine.” Peter feels himself moving again, but his body has officially stopped cooperating. He’s floating, then falling. His back hits something hard and it makes his side spike with pain. It brings some clarity back and his eyes manage to peel apart into dazed slits.  </p><p>   After a few seconds of processing, Peter realizes they’re on the roof. Thousands of lights sparkle underneath them and Peter stares at them detachedly as his arms are pulled behind him and cinched together. The ropes bite into his skin and bring back memories that make his ears ring.</p><p>   “Not a goo’ present.” Peter mumbles. He can’t help it. Someone grabs his jaw and squeezes it hard. Distantly, Peter feels his mouth open and filled with heavy fabric. He tries to spit it out, but a longer piece of cloth is pulled between his teeth and tied behind his head, trapping it in. </p><p>   “Mmm.” Peter sees stars. He’s never been so tired in his life. What was he doing here? He doesn’t remember. </p><p>   “Call Stark.” </p><p>   Peter loses all reality after that. </p><p>---</p><p>   Tony is dancing with Pepper to <em>‘Don’t Stop Believing’</em> when he gets the call. He feels the light vibration against his leg and lets it ring until it goes to voicemail. Immediately it rings again, and Tony feels a spike of annoyance. When he pulls it out of his pocket, it’s from a private number. He declines it again. </p><p>   “Who’s that?” Pepper asks loudly over the music. </p><p>   “No idea.” His screen lights up a third time and something heavy settles in Tony’s chest. “I’ll be right back, okay?” </p><p>   Pepper nods, and he leaves her on the dance floor. He lets the phone ring until he reaches the outskirts of the party where the room is quieter before accepting the call and raising it to his ear. </p><p>   “Hello?” </p><p>   “Tony Stark.” </p><p>   The voice on the other end is cold. It’s not the first time he’s received one of these calls, and the last thing he wants to deal with right now is another one. </p><p>   “Sorry. Nope. Not tonight, I’m throwing a birthday party. Call me tomorrow with your threats.” </p><p>   There’s a light laugh in his ear, and it catches Tony off guard. “Understandable. It really is a great party. The salmon sandwiches are especially delightful.” </p><p>   Ice fills Tony’s veins. He jerks to look at the food table. “Who the hell is this?” </p><p>   “Careful, Tony. Don’t want to draw too much attention to yourself.” </p><p>   “I don’t care! Who are you and why are you here?” </p><p>   The man is enjoying this. Each word is painfully slow and deliberate. “It doesn't matter who I am. I’m simply here to celebrate little Peter, just like everyone else.” </p><p>   At this, all the air in the room evaporates. He almost falls to his knees. “Pe-Peter?” Immediately, he starts scanning the room in hopes to see his kid. All the faces are blurring together. None of them are his. </p><p>   “We are most curious. Why would Tony Stark throw a birthday party for an eighteen year old boy? He must be very important to you, no?” </p><p>   Tony’s hand shakes so badly it nearly drops the device all together. “Where is he?” </p><p>   “He’s safe. For now.” </p><p>   “Stop with the classic kidnapping <em>crap </em>and tell me where he is!” </p><p>   “Hush hush, Tony. What did I say about causing a scene? If you don’t calm down little Peter gets a bullet to the brain.” </p><p>   All the fight drains out of him and he collapses against the wall. <em>Bullet to the brain. How could this be happening</em>? </p><p>   “What do I need to do to get my kid back?” </p><p>   For a moment, there’s a victorious silence. They’ve got him right where they want him and they know it. </p><p>   “We want ten million in cash. You have fifteen minutes. We’ll call you with the location when it’s time. Don’t tell anyone or he’s dead.” </p><p>   The line goes dead and Tony stands in shock. There’s a metallic taste on his tongue and the noises of the party are muted from the static in his ears. He doesn’t think he can walk, and is surprised as his body supports him as he moves. </p><p>   He’s running out of time. </p><p>---</p><p>   “He’s coming.” </p><p>   “You sure?”</p><p>   “Definitely. I can’t believe this is working.” The man looks out over New York and is caught in sudden envisionments of all they can buy with Stark’s blood money. All because of some <em>kid</em>. </p><p>   He turns over to the boy and squats down beside him. Peter’s eyes are half lidded and dazed. He’s not sure how much the kid is comprehending. Smiling, he grabs a fistful of the kid’s hair, forcing his head up to look at him. The connection is weak. “Stark’s going to pay a pretty penny for your life, boy. But in my opinion? You’re worthless.” </p><p>   Gagged, there’s no way for the boy to respond, but he blinks slowly and looks away as if in solemn agreement. For some reason, it irritates him. He slaps Peter across the cheek and feels some satisfaction as he sags against the pole he’s tied to. The more Stark suffers, the better. </p><p>   “Come on, Luke. We’ve got fifteen minutes to kill.” </p><p>---</p><p>   The second call comes right on time. Tony answers halfway through the first ring.</p><p>   “Alright jackass. Where the hell are you?”</p><p>   “That’s not a very nice way to talk to someone holding a gun to your kid’s head.” </p><p>   It takes all his willpower to swallow his pride. When he finds these guys, he’s going to incinerate them. “Where. Are. You.” </p><p>   “You have the money, I assume?” </p><p>   “Obviously.” </p><p>   “On the roof. Come alone.” </p><p>   The line goes dead. </p><p>   Walking back through the party is torture. Everything here is for Peter. This was supposed to be the break the kid deserved. Now, it’s nothing more than another nightmare. </p><p>   And Tony’s going to kill them for it. </p><p>   “Mr. Ironman!” Ned appears beside him and he jumps so hard he nearly drops the briefcase in his hand. He tries to compose himself, but seeing Peter’s best friend steals the oxygen from his lungs all over again. He’s ten seconds away from a panic attack and he knows it. </p><p>   “Can’t talk now. Go dance.” </p><p>   “Wait! Do you know where Peter is? We can’t find him.” </p><p>   “Bathroom.” </p><p>   “Oh, thanks!” </p><p>   Tears fill his eyes as he pushes through the crowd. The song playing is happy and upbeat, like nothing in the universe is out of place. It makes him sick.</p><p>   He almost makes it to the elevator, but a hand on his sleeve stops him. It’s Pepper. Her eyes are large with worry. “Where are you going? Are you okay?” </p><p>   She must see the tears in his eyes, because her free hand reaches up to cradle the side of his face. He leans into her warm touch for a small moment, and tries to will her to understand. “I’ll be right back. I promise.” </p><p>   Her expression is hard to read, but she nods. She lets him go. </p><p>   His hands are sweating so badly the briefcase’s handle slides in his hand as he jogs to the elevator. It takes a couple minutes to open and they’re the longest of his life. The ride to the top is even longer. </p><p>   The barrel of a gun is the first thing he sees when the doors finally slide open. It’s trained between his eyes, slowly coaxing him into the night’s chill. The man wielding it is masked. </p><p>   “Is that it?” </p><p>   “Yes.” </p><p>   “Prove it.” </p><p>   “Show me Peter first.” </p><p>   The man hesitates before nodding his consent. The gun is placed into the small of his back and together they walk across the roof. The stars are bright tonight, impossibly so. </p><p>   When Tony sees him, something inside of him breaks. </p><p>   Peter is obviously drugged up to his eyeballs. He’s tied to a pipe and swayed so far to the side that his arms strain behind him to keep him there. There’s a tight gag around his mouth and a dark bruise on his cheek. A thin silver sash hugs his chest that reads <em>happy birthday</em>, but it’s torn and spotted with blood.</p><p>   In an instant Tony’s fear turns into fierce anger. It’s dangerous. </p><p>   There’s another man holding a similar gun. This one is trained on Peter. His aim doesn’t waver. </p><p>   “Welcome to the party.” </p><p>   “You’re sick.” </p><p>   “Show us the money.”</p><p>   Tony is going to throw up. Their conversation must spark something because Peter stirs and tries to push himself upright. He’s wildly unsuccessful, head lolling forward weakly in his efforts. </p><p>   “Now, Stark!” </p><p>   “Okay.” Tony drops the case to the ground and clicks open the lid. The money is revealed and the man loosens his grip on his gun, eyes hungry. </p><p>   “That’s all of it?”</p><p>   “Yes. Now let Peter go.” </p><p>   At the sound of his name, Peter stirs further. There’s a soft noise from behind the gag as the boy fights to open his eyes. He’s managed to sit himself upright now. </p><p>   There’s a silent communication between the two captors and Tony hears it before he sees it. There’s a cut through the air as the man behind him swings his gun out. It’s meant for his head but Tony moves so it hits him hard in the shoulder instead. It knocks him to the ground and from where he lands he can see that the man by Peter has moved. Instead of standing beside him, he’s kneeling behind him and pressing a long knife to his throat. Even from his distance Tony can see beads of blood rush up at the pressure. </p><p>   If there’s any brightside to the situation, it brings Peter closer to reality. His eyes widen as if realizing for the first time that Tony is here with them and he yells something unintelligible through the cloth around his mouth. </p><p>   “Shut up.” The man applies more pressure and Peter cries out. A drop of crimson slides off the blade and Tony chokes. “Stop! You said you’d give him back when you got the money.” </p><p>   The men look uncertain. They mutually cut glances to the case in Tony’s hand, and Tony monopolizes on the moment. </p><p>   “Please. Just take it. I’ll let you go. Don’t hurt him. He means everything to me. <em>Everything.</em>” </p><p>   Even drugged, Peter’s eyes spark with something fierce that Tony has come to understand. The knife doesn’t move. </p><p>   “Please-” </p><p>   For a moment, Tony thinks it’s over. That the men will accept it and leave. The man’s next words will haunt him forever. “No.” </p><p>   A lot happens in the next thirty seconds. </p><p>   The man holding Peter raises the knife, ready to plunge it down. In the line of fire, Peter never breaks his eye contact with Tony. He doesn’t even flinch. </p><p>   But the knife never meets its target. </p><p>   Just before it lands, a blast of hot fire cuts a spark of light through the darkness and hits the man in the chest. He flies backwards, rolls limply, and lays still. A similar blast hits the man beside him, knocking him clean off his feet. </p><p>   “Pepper?” </p><p>   She lands and falls out of her suit, rushing to help him up. She’s shaking. “Tony-” </p><p>   “Thank you.” He touches his forehead to hers. He’s in shock and he knows it. “Please get them out of here. Get them away from Peter.” </p><p>   “Okay.” Pepper’s warmth leaves him as she steps back inside her suit. As she moves to collect the men, Tony stumbles over to Peter who is looking brokenly at him with an expression he can no longer read. </p><p>   “Pete. Oh, Pete. Christ. I’m sorry. You’re okay, you’re okay.” He hates himself for it, but he picks up the fallen knife and uses it to cut at the bindings holding up his kid. When they fall, Peter does too, and Tony catches him easily in his arms. They settle against each other like two puzzle pieces. </p><p>   “Woah.” Peter’s voice is long and floaty. He looks up at his mentor with equally unfocused eyes. “You’re crying.” </p><p>   Tony doesn’t pretend. He nods. “It’s your party and I’ll cry if I want to.” </p><p>   It takes Peter a moment, but when it connects he shines with a loopy grin. “Wait. Did you just make a joke?” </p><p>   “Course not.” </p><p>   “You did!” Peter laughs, faltering a little as pain flashes across his face. “‘M so proud.” </p><p>   Tony doesn’t cry anymore. He <em>sobs</em>. He pulls Peter tighter and vows to never let go. “I’m so sorry kiddo. This is on me. I let you get hurt.” </p><p>   “No.” He feels Peter’s warm breath on his neck. “Still th’ best party ever. Can’ believe you were goin’ to pay ten million dollars for me.” </p><p>   “You and me both.” </p><p>   “You c’n buy a lot of ice cream wi’ ten million dollars.” </p><p>   “Yeah kiddo, you can.”</p><p>   Before Peter can continue, the sky suddenly comes alive around them. Loud booms accompany golden streams of light and Peter pushes against him weakly to see. Tony helps. </p><p>   “<em>Fireworks?</em>” </p><p>   “They were supposed to be a surprise.” </p><p>   “I <em>am</em> surprised!” Peter smiles widely and Tony pretends not to see the thin line of blood on his neck. “Good thing we’re on th’ roof.” </p><p>   “Yeah, good thing.” </p><p>   Peter melts back into Tony’s side. The warmth from his body blocks out the cold. “See? E’rything happens for a reason.”</p><p>   As they sit there together under the light of the universe and dazzling streaks of gold and blue, Tony feels the truth of Peter’s words hit him hard in the chest. He looks down at his young face, thinking about all the events that brought them together and silently thanks the Lord above for the divine design of it all. </p><p>   Tony’s not certain of a lot of things. But of this he is: Peter was meant to be his kid. And thick or thin, that would never, ever change. </p><p>   “Happy birthday, Pete.” </p><p>   “Happy bir’day, M’ Sta’k.” </p><p>   Yep, still drugged. Tony doesn’t have the heart to correct him. </p><p>---</p><p>   Pepper returns shortly after the last firework fizzles out of the sky. She’s quiet and comforting and everything Tony needs. She tells him the men are in custody and that she had sent everyone from the party home. She helps them up, and between her and Tony they manage to carry Peter back downstairs. </p><p>   May and Happy are waiting for them at the bottom of the elevator when they step out and Peter smiles deliriously at them. Him and May share a hug that ends with them sagging to the floor in tears. </p><p>   Peter’s limp has gotten significantly worse but he uses his last birthday privilege to escape medbay and instead ends up in his bedroom. Bruce checks him over, tells them about the deep bruises on his chest and abdomen that are already on their way to healing and how everything else is superficial. </p><p>   It takes five minutes for the boy to fall asleep and twelve hours for him to wake up. </p><p>   When he does, Tony is beside him like he always is. Peter’s confusion lasts only for a moment. </p><p>   “Wow. I thought it was all a dream.” </p><p>   “Nope.” </p><p>   “I got held hostage at my own party.” </p><p>   “Yep.” </p><p>   “That <em>sucked.</em>” </p><p>   “Pretty much.” </p><p>   “I mean don’t get me wrong the party was great. <em>Really</em> great. Would do it all again if I could. Except I would eat more cake. Definitely more cake.” </p><p>   Tony huffs out a laugh. “Stop actively trying to give me grey hairs.” </p><p>   “Stop actively trying to be a grump!” </p><p>   “I’m not a grump. There’s still drugs in your system. You’re delusional..” He pauses and pulls a package off the ground. “And since you tapped out so early, you never got to open your present.” </p><p>   Peter looks at him incredulously. “What are you talking about? The party <em>was</em> the present. Not to mention the fireworks, or the <em>ten million dollars</em>.” </p><p>   “We got that back so it doesn’t count.” Again, Tony feels nervous as he places the neatly wrapped gift on the sheets beside Peter. Smiling, he picks it up and shakes it by his ear. “Is it ice cream?” </p><p>   “What? Christ, kid what’s with you and ice cream-” </p><p>   “An iron man suit?” </p><p>   “There is <em>no</em> way I would ever-”  </p><p>   “A friend for Happy Jr.?” </p><p>   “Just open it!” </p><p>   Peter obeys, smiling as he pulls apart the paper. He uncovers the box and stares dumbly at the object it reveals. </p><p>   “You made this?” </p><p>   “Yep.” </p><p>   “NO WAY!” </p><p>   Peter pulls out the present, holding it happily in his right hand. In a second, red light fills the room with an electric thrum. “A LIGHTSABER? Ned is going to die!” </p><p>   Hours upon hours in his lab become worth it in an instant. He settles back against his chair, enjoying the child like excitement on the boy’s features. “You like it?” </p><p>   “I LOVE IT!” Peter turns it off and launches out of his covers to give Tony a hug. He’s still healing and Tony can hear it as the breath hitches in his chest at the movement. Regardless, he returns the hug warmly. </p><p>   “I’m glad.” </p><p>   Peter settles back against his pillows, holding the delicate instrument in his hands. His excitement softens. He looks thoughtful. “I don’t remember much about my dad, Mr. Stark, but I think he would’ve really liked you.” He pauses, contemplating further. His words are soft. “Ben too.”</p><p>   Something tightens in Tony’s throat. He doesn’t trust himself to speak. </p><p>   “Just- thanks.” Peter smiles. There’s no joke. No humor. Just pure, unbreakable truth. “Lightsabers are cool, but being a part of your family is cooler.” </p><p>   <em>Family</em>. </p><p>   Warmth fills every inch of Tony’s chest until he feels like he’s going to burst like one of the fireworks from the night before. </p><p>   <em>Guess I do have a heart, </em>he thinks happily. </p><p>   And just like that, they heal together.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>THERE IT IS! Irondad and spiderson for life :) Now that I finished this fic I'm really excited to start working on some new projects! If you'd like, you can send me things you'd like to see on tumblr @polaroid15<br/>(I also survived my midterms! Woohoo! Thanks for all the good luck wishes!)<br/>And thanks again for all the love on this fic. It's meant a lot to me, and strangely it feels like the end of an era!<br/>Happy Birthday Pete :)</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! I'm excited to post chapter 2 soon! :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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